The Gifts That One Receives For Giving

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.

Watch The Indolent Butterfly Playing On The Tall Flower In The Yard And Think About The Sun Going Down. It Always Does You Know.

Everybody Has The Answers Or They'll Make Them Up For You. Just Once I'd Like To Hear A Brand-new Question.

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

I've Come To Terms With It, It Knows I Know.