calling
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For the life of me
I can hear the sea
Calling, calling, calling.
And for the life of me
I'm trying, trying, trying
But for fear of the death of me...
I don't.
Don't.
Don't.
Dirt and shame were my middle names
Only saw brown in the reflection
Couldn’t stop the streams from falling
A broken heart all I felt
Picture the summer of 2014. Driving on the freeway. Walking along the beach. Blasting music with the windows down.
Is this going to be a typical California summer? Not in the slightest.
Walking down the street
Its more than a dream
Its the reality that makes my soul want to jump out of me
What I see is a frightening sight
All different faces but no difference inside
The gardener tended to her garden after the spring rain came.
The gardener loves the fresh smell of her garden after the rain has come and gone.
She loves the touch of a soft, sweet red rose petal.
Her garden is her passion.
The definition of finish
Can’t possibly be the first sign of progress on the road to success
Maybe it’s the ok to exit
Or a predetermined establishment of “well enough”
Its designed as something easy to live with
You are the breeze that stirs my hair,
and the blue bird in the air.
You are the sun across my face,
and the green leaf's chlorophyll lace.
You are the water upon my lips,
and the fall deer as he sips.
