Half of the somebody that used to be the widow nobody that is me in a whole new state of washing up a single plate at the isolated station of solo occupation
My words are birds beautiful delicate feathered things on graceful multicoloured wings set free to range the mental sky they take me where I dare not fly
Finality is a reality there is no endless love no forever even in the beauty of the stars above all will end we cannot transcend our allotted span so live and laugh and dance while you can