Monday, October 24, 2011
September 30, 2011
Love of years,
And for years to come
Without condition or warrant
For a life down that expressway
Seen so often, so unoriginal,
Racing so fast that reasons were needed then lost
Rather than a walk under oaks
At a pace that yields
The love in my hand to yours, held.
Do your eyes remain, power
That keep mine in straight gaze.
Posted by A Certain Man at 1:18 PM