Nov 11, 2002

"All she ever thinks about is riding with the wind"

The fire never lasts long enough. The night comes too soon. The light fades. You miss things. You know that you've missed them, but they're gone, just the same. How will I ever find time or tears enough to mourn all that I have missed -- all that has passed and cannot be revived. How will I ever bury what I haven't yet seen. What I may never see.

I am an old woman and a child at once. I am a smile and a gasp. I am cold at the fingertips and hot at the eyelashes. I'm not the girl I think I am.

I have excellent vision, but my posture could be better.



Well, she's walking through the clouds
With a circus mind
That's running wild
Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams
And fairy tales

All she ever thinks about is
Riding with the wind

When I'm sad she comes to me
With a thousand smiles
She gives to me free

It's alright, it's alright, she says
Take anything you want from me
Anything

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posted by Mary Forrest at 12:41 AM | Back to Monoblog


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