I’m not ready for you to die, For you to forget my voice And the color of my eyes.
I’m not ready to wonder Where you’re headed… Down that long dark road.
Wonder… If you’ll be waiting for me When I come-on Home.
Δ
What about me? I’m a dreamer, I’m a writer, I’m a musician….I’m a pomegranite. The rest is mostly breath and ashes. ps. Arion – this is all your fault. [disclaimer: it’s just poetry, friends. not reality.]