Staring over the vantage
|
To get a minor advantage
|
Watching dotted snow flakes
|
Stirs up my headaches
|
All the people have formed around bits of dust
|
They spend their lives being pushed around
|
By every single gust
|
All your life will go
|
Your Home won't be your home
|
The names will hang around
|
The words will slip and fall down
|
|
Mumbling over the sleet
|
The words cut across my cheeks
|
Moving farther takes me further
|
From the peace
|
Without a place my pace seems
|
Far from complete
|
The blank stares the steady looks
|
They move me to my feet
|
|
-----------------
|
Stoic
|
| Dreams From Gin |
