Rust color sand
Clings to the damp grass
Giving appearance of frost
Under the quiet furnace of the sun
making it sparkle like stars
It's a quiet thing
this loneliness
follows me around like a lost kitten
tries to tell me things that
just cant be because they never were
She has been gone for fifty years past
and I don't even remember her name
just grey eyes and her lovely voice
I tread the asphalt like its a prayer
try to recapture all that never...
Waited all these years in silence
Rust-colored sand clings to my heart
colder the days
under the furnace of the sun