Sun has gone crimson and sycamores have stopped to burn Sycamores, tossing in glee; hundreds of trees, thousand years old, straddle the road. Road that I racing west, Driving against memories. Memories, swaying like breeze, collide my car, vintage sapphire. The way never slithers and swirls, ...
Words strung together, formed in a rhyme expressions of my heart preserved in time.... Driven by emotions my thoughts I write about.... at times when I want to cry, those moments when I want to shout... I'll express myself in these poems They'll tell you what my person is about. - Me *** A collection of my...