sometimes i don't know, which momentwhich cool gust of wind will come,and enchant metousling my hairand my heart, stirring...that familiar ache of poetry, which drop will kissthe old wrench in my soulreminding me, all over againi miss you better in the rain.

how is it thathe's alwaysin my thoughts. even when i am not thinking.

There is somethingmystically sadand beautifulabouthowi will neversee youagainbut meet youagain and againin poetry.

The world is thinningand the earth...it's still spinningmy world is thinningand it’s all because of one person I’m missing.