Oct 2011
I left before I could blow it.
Bright light, moonlight, whatever,
it doesn't matter, the setting is irrelevant,
the fact is,
I've noticed you before the grave.
I left before they could know it.
Call me whatever you like, whatever,
it doesn't matter, the semantics are irrelevant,
the fact is,
we made it all up anyways.
My dear, I left poetry to the poets.
Bright light, moonlight, whatever,
it doesn't matter, the setting is irrelevant,
the fact is,
I've noticed you before the grave.
I left before they could know it.
Call me whatever you like, whatever,
it doesn't matter, the semantics are irrelevant,
the fact is,
we made it all up anyways.
My dear, I left poetry to the poets.
(Tallahassee, FL)
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