Rain go away
come out and play
in the beautiful rain
all day, all day(:

It's raining, it's pouring
My young heart is soaring
I saw a girl and fell in love
Couldn't find her in the morning

If I held out my hand
would you take it ?
it's warmth ready to permeate your soul
but what would it tell you of me ?
the scar on my finger
the wrinkling skin
the crooked pinkie
the gnarl on my thumb
stories to be told
if you would only take hold.

You plucked the words "our little secret"
From your lips
And shoved them between mine
With such force
That I choked on them
For years
Until eventually
I spat them out
On your grave.

Flutter flutter
little bird.
Flutter flutter
little thing.

Hush and listen
to this song I sing.
Good health and good fortune
to you,
it will bring.

So flutter little bird
flutter to me oh precious one.
Listen to this song that I will sing,
listen to my song
the song of the stars.

“Are the stars in the sky,
like you and I?
Do they flutter
or do they fly?
Do they shed their shining feathers
and make their nests out of
sticks and heather?
Do they sing sweet songs
or forgive each other
of all slights and wrongs?
Are the stars like you and me?
Can they soar in the air
so high and so free?
Can they loop and swing
flip or sing?
Or,
are they just stars?”

So flutter little bird
flutter little thing,
and don't forget a word
of the song that I sing.

Is your mind's Identity, a compilation of events that you have witnessed, through your senses, thoughts actions, and uttered sentences have set themselves on a set of shelves in your mental book case. But so many names to face there's not enough space to keep it all straight, so it escapes. My past it fades and gaps make way to take its place, and now my story looses some glory. Things I have done, lessons learned from someone will help me none if I can remember them poorly. I am hardly an entity with any identity if my foundation of memories decays from under me exponentially.

So see me again, some other time when I'm on your mind, and you ought to find then that I'm a new man with new opinions. So then you'll bend, changing the image of me in your head. It's good to see you again Old Friend. You say and exchange the same handshake as when we were both young sit back and pretend, reminisce about days together we'd spend. You've still got some vivid depictions to lend to this old man who's past escapes him.

And that's why brother its good to have each other, a constant in my life, a bond easily recovered. And that's why this better last forever. No matter how we drift, spirits stay tethered together. Cause at the end of one's life we've got two things left. Our memories, and our old friends to share them with.