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78c790c6431f400dc71528aa306d49f4

 
 
memories
are dark, disjointed
as a dream.
a thread of thought
weaves through them all
as does the lull
of lavender

 

faces, places
things we’ve done
each morphed into another.
Where is truth
or, was it ever here?
Perhaps, the longing
made it so

 

woodland walks
and moonlit talks
count my drum beats flow.
Lies that echo
through the woods.
Pictures in the fog
of long ago

 
 
 

Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

 

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