After years of being a closet writer, my poems started to tell me they wanted to get out more . I have a roving rambling heart myself so I completely understand . Happy travels .

Friday, June 19, 1992


The here and now of tomorrow's wish
Is the best torture in land of time
The events in which our dreams exist
End up reaching a higher sublime
Than reality that you might not see
But forget all that, come dream with me

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