These days
are just
hazy memories
of kind poets telling me
I'm strange in a good way,
like ginger beer or Guillaume &
as solitary as a broken barometer
in someone's old barn
and then
they just say nothing &
disappear forever
again.
About Me
- CK
- Orleans, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, United States
- "LET it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten for ever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old. If anyone asks, say it was forgotten Long and long ago, As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall In a long forgotten snow." -Sara Teasdale
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