Love is an interference with possessory interest but with a high probability of ending in failure.

Life, I am upset with you not for having chosen me to live but with the choice of your timing.

along emilys hill road
the trees are bare

she's skipping stones
across st martens creek

as she turns
smiling my name

her breath comes out
white clouds
mingles
and hangs in the air

the quiet
stillness
in her eyes

she sees something
in me
that I can't
see

and that s why
i love her so



emilys hill road
unchanged

the trees are bare

she's skipping stones
across
st. martins creek

I believe that's the way
I remember her best

Her lips are like
wet orchids, dressed in
the spring rain,
waiting to be
kissed and
caressed.