August 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
There are hurtles to get through when you drive across the state line.
There are hundreds of voices that you have to slice over and ignore.
Ridgy highway, bump, bump
yes mam, no mam.
Here we are today,
Dancing away our fears.
Happiness, pure faces, golden days.
Ah…there is nothing I live for but to
Days old lumber, sweet smell
the rusty penny brown nail heads
I am here,
That is all.
No difference make us now.
Here we volley across,
Zip tie to the other side.
Battle not won,
A New one lies on the burnt down
We share the same history
You and I.