Poetry
The Last of Lines
I stand there by the old man that held my hand as I walked down the coast, The old man that never hesitated to put
I stand there by the old man that held my hand as I walked down the coast, The old man that never hesitated to put
I remember the feel of his fur, and can almost remember his smell. Standing next to him was amazing. He once stood up with me
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The season is relaxing washing in on ocean waves the sand captures tender land escapes drapes of quiet look rest is special test captivates our
Until you let go of what hurts you,
screaming won’t ease the pain.
The day stars new all is peaceful at sun up a fresh strong breath of tree’s The Christmas tree is filled with a thousand memories
The Walls We Build: “There is loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of