May 12, 2020

began to process storms passing

The storm is passing its more quiet
Life not so silent
Promenda is more fuller
Clouds dispersing more fluffy and white
Less bird song more traffic
Its passing

Process has began
Society wants us back performing
That how we measure our values

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MAYBE WE WON`T MEET AGAIN

. . . she got a postcard in the mail
That just said Heaven,with a picture of the ocean and the beach
The simple words he wrote her
Said he loved her
How he'd hold her if his arms would reach
Wish you were here, wish you could see this place
Wish you were near,Wish I could touch your face
The weather's nice, it's paradise
It's summertime all year and there's some folks we know
They say, "Hello, "
I miss you so, wish you were here"
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