When Summer's heatgives way toautumn's bliss,I will kiss thisworld goodbyeand walk tothe woodsto savethe last sliverof my humanity,where the creekmeets the river ofmy destiny.Far away fromthe shitty city ofsick Streetsand brokendreams.

Not good with surprisesYet here you areYou approached timidly at firstThen the nervousness showedWhat was more  endearingyour approach or the executionI was not looking in your directionYou made my head turnYou made my mind stay on younew questions and...

hearth of language   Set the table, and let the light fall,  cut the bread, cost nothing but time.  Read my face for the story—  for and, or but, yet so—  we keep finding ways to meet.    A few laughs shared,  a lot of pauses filled,  twenty of...