Planes and trains and Rusty cars

so very close and yet so far.

Pale champagne.

And Old guitars.

Nights spent dancing in the dark.

That time at the opera show

Oh how I wish you wouldn’t go.


Jars of parts and bleeding hearts,

scabbed over cuts and deeper scars

We’ve lost ourselves, from where we start

Sorry to say, Friends grown apart

And the years that carry in between.

So many things I could have been


Seeds and oils and soil and shells.

I’ve lived my life so far  not so very well

For better or not,

The seasons will change.

The oceans will swell.

As long as my stories are strange…

Oh this life, I’ll be here to write down my memories to tell


Dreams and queens

And Fields of bloom

And your Stories of how you touched the moon

I only laugh along because I know I’ll soon be there too – with you


By Shawnna Burt


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