Friday, June 6, 2008

Postcards ftom Italy













the times we had. oh when the wind would blow with rain and snow. were not all bad,
we put our feet just where they had, had to go, never to go..
the shattered soul, following close but nearly twice as slow
in my good times, there were always golden rocks to throw
at those who admit defeat too late
those were our times, those where our times..
..and i will love to see that day that day is mine
when she will marry me outside with the willow trees
and play the songs we made. they made so
and i would love to see that day, her day was mine

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