05-03-2016, 01:00 AM
It is the Story of Those Who Live
The last time he saw his mother,
she was asleep in the car,
as red-cheeked as a painted doll.
His Father lifted her arms, and moved
her head to pose her, but she
was too tired to wake up.
The last time he saw his mother,
she was asleep in the car,
as red-cheeked as a painted doll.
His Father lifted her arms, and moved
her head to pose her, but she
was too tired to wake up.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson