.Just look past these oldtrees, these cold windows;where slow days creep-- like sea turtles among billowy cloudsplaying the apostrophes!Take me back to thelittle green placewhere that small housefelt so alive like skin.Where we smoked our cigarettes and dragged the muddy river. Moments seemed moretender in the bare face of love back when the world was warm. Oh! but that was all once upon a time--when death feared life..