tell.

It snowed, the day you leftfor the coast. Like the sky was blanketing the streets for slumber.

And I was haunted as I walked the block past your house How we are not promised time - All I have in my hands is this stroll to the bus stop And the chilling realization of that story I never told you About a boy with a dream and a girl with a kiss; I believe it to be true.

Posted on December 5, 2010 and filed under writing-.