Hobby Horse
She just sits at home
And cries at everything
At milk spilt on the carpet
At children gone and grown
Freed from grasping apron strings
At the beach, she's a wreck
And her unkempt stare is back
To drive away pleasant company
And words that trail sympathy
Till nothing lives in her wake
Monday, May 02, 2005
On being inside time
I lose myself inside today Rattling against walls Smooth unmarked unyeilding With the futility of An unwatched clock Today is much too vas...
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It must have been love That sort of thing Can't be mistaken For a lesser set of feelings It has a special hat And makes you welcome at p...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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I’m tired I’m tired of my heart giving out Whenever it gives in That things being the same Never makes a difference Of looking forwards to s...
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