03-25-2018, 09:55 AM
Portland Bound
Red hair, striking eyes, that warm smile
pierced my chest.
That caring look, staring at me
her ears listen to my breath.
Momentary divine abstraction for awhile,
brought by absurd chance.
The sand is falling in the hour glass,
with each scared kiss we share.
Without you how will I fare?
Looking at scribbles from time come and gone,
love is as if a re-run.
Where one is a transfer station,
on the way to Portland, the next destination.
Red hair, striking eyes, that warm smile
pierced my chest.
That caring look, staring at me
her ears listen to my breath.
Momentary divine abstraction for awhile,
brought by absurd chance.
The sand is falling in the hour glass,
with each scared kiss we share.
Without you how will I fare?
Looking at scribbles from time come and gone,
love is as if a re-run.
Where one is a transfer station,
on the way to Portland, the next destination.
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Bunx
--mark twain
Bunx