my friends, write big letters on big pages, filled in magazines. we make the summers look like golden lit kerosene and trail in conduct laden rows off to our cozy little homes where we make life a little rougher for the souls that came before
such a silly little episode she left her coat, and we all grabbed it and held it fairly close until she finally stumbled up all the stairs that we drew up all those cozy little homes.
say that you remember, late november, late autumn or early winter, when the changes weren't much
Say that you recall that fading fall when we thought that we are all the happiest we'd ever be.