some words passed in between us, holy things fell from the skies, as mothers looked for children's eyes in the faint recognition that they would see something familiar, something, anything. but these are not really our children. we are their parents.
me with your apples, you with my pairs the king of hearts and the king of hearts, that's all i have and that's all i need. my son once said to me, 'you will be a jolly old man not a grumpy old man.'
at the time i was a grumpy old man but i see his point. i'll never be bitter and resentful but i will have my sadness under my hat.
big homes stuck between the traffic stream and the horizons dreams one day the ocean will wash it away, one day we will walk this road again and you and i will still stop on that bench and watch the frigging dolphins, and one day when your happy you will remember the king of hearts. but the future is a whimsical thing and the wheels of time are not clockwork cogs but nautilus spirals
winding it's circle around us all, inescapable future, inexplicable pasts, impermanent now.
but in the meantime i'd settle for sitting on a bench with you looking out at the sea.