If I Could Do It Over, I'd

I Cannot Speculate On What Our Cluttered Mind Will Save- Sleepy Sundays, Or A Nosebleed After Love. I Know Only The Dying Heart Needs The Nourishment Of Memory To Live Beyond Too Many Winters.

Strangers Are Just Friends Waiting To Happen

Be Gentle With Me, New Love. Treat Me Tenderly. I Need The Gentle Touch, The Soft Voice, The Candlelight After Nine. There's Been So Many Who Didn't Understand So Give Me All The Love I See In Your Timid Eyes But Give It Gently Please.

There Is No Other Way To Find Ourselves But In Each Others Faces.

Poetry Is Fact Given Over To Imagery.