Times I Write

“When the days are cold and the clouds all fold; when the saints we see are all made of gold. When your dreams all fail, and the ones we hail, are the worst of all and the blood’s run stale.”–I’m just singing.

When the winds run wild on a beach somewhere, when the moon in full height, dimly lights all bear.
When the lungs are filled with all sorts of air or the heart beats through the wear and tear.

When the butterflies in the stomach flutter; when the rain on the roof goes pitter-patter.
When the thunders clap through the stormy weather, when the cockroaches fly and scamper.

When the mind in chaos, has nowhere to run,when the only escape there is, is none.
When the troubled heart wishes it begone,when breath labors on and on.

Anywhere, anywhere at all.
Anytime, anytime at all.



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