The rain is gentle
even in the city you can find the sky.
Smile when it helps, cry when it hurts.
Broken hearted again, loving you still.
A past shadowlike underfoot.
I wish you were here,
I'd tell you all about it.
Even in the city the sky can find your face.
And no, this is not about a reality cook-off show where the cravated judge
eats a bone marrow risotto and then dies of a heart attack*
This is the story ...
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment