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Click hereI closed my eyes and yawned
the Carolina summer vanished,
my salty pastels hidden
beneath dead damp leaves
the poets left the island
like migratory swans,
leaving no one to listen....
no one to be heard
I look towards the setting sun
coming earlier each day,
imagining spoken rhythm
wishing I was in Vallejo
but...............
there is no causeway
no Mare Island Way
that takes me to Florida
down to 818 Marin
where the coffee is hot
and the sandwiches nourish,
while the music and spoken word
rekindle a frozen a soul
I miss this place I've never been
needing the warmth of creation,
the voices of strangers speaking with a beat.
pen...I like the ones I REALLY get...is why I like your pens..always a great style...blue
I always enjoy your writes, and this one had a lot of great lines, thanks for sharing
to have the formatting fixed on this one. The text is bleeding into the blue border. It's worth the trouble!