the passing days have
have always drawn me back to a word.
or haven’t you heard?
this metal I wear around my
neck is sentimental, not philosophical.
it is fate we met in wet green
rain bridge lake park after it is dark.
I bought a blank bound book to
write to you, that bites true.
if calling with positive karma vibes will
be what you need, then you’ll feed.
when I am destroyed by evolved
longing, I shall sing.
before it becomes dark thinking
realistically, i’ll drink some tea.
while we waltz our dancing
selves back home, it would
be a great roam, sharing the ideas
and places we have been,
once or again, seen.