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Anybody ever write?
Greg...if you see this off the wall topic, here's something I wrote in 1985. I write quite a bit about what I'm feeling. Last time I wrote was in 2007, when my Mamma passed away.
Trees are humming in the wind, the leaves they almost whisper.
The sky is grey and lifeless, though it almost seems to snicker;
at the dying life beneath it, at the presence of the winter.
As the night time grows much nearer and the light begins to fade;
the darkness overcomes us as if a silent parade; of tiny red tin soldiers that slowly march away.
When winter is past and spring begins, we then begin to wonder.
What has happened to the time; couldn't it have lasted longer?
Trees are humming in the wind, the leaves they almost whisper.
The sky is grey and lifeless, though it almost seems to snicker;
at the dying life beneath it, at the presence of the winter.
As the night time grows much nearer and the light begins to fade;
the darkness overcomes us as if a silent parade; of tiny red tin soldiers that slowly march away.
When winter is past and spring begins, we then begin to wonder.
What has happened to the time; couldn't it have lasted longer?
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