sores-of-the-heart

The child's eyes show the sea; and the Moon stretches in reply. We all search for the key, for the day that we might fly. A priest proclaims his lines; A poet dreams her rhymns. Both and all silently speak about the adventures of the seek. Butterflies are detectors, Each tiny Flutter a beep; each kind gesture a sign of a covenant to keep. For each mountain we climb; For each success we find; For each valley down we fall; we inch closer to desires of all. It's in a mother's arms; Within two lovers' kiss; In strangers without harm, With anyone you miss. As you may see within the child's eyes, The peaceful doves, Within t

Daba, my friend, no my best friend I recall the first day that forever began. When our rugged life paths began to grow together, intertwined, yet from different grounds. I, as shy as a Iamb, trailed behind you as we walked to your villa, unaware of the ailments ahead. With your family I felt lost in all the affluence around me. Your family was rich in more ways than one. Your roots, (Cont. on next column) are well nourished, by love and water. Daba, my dear Daba, I recall the first time that my sugar daddy— your daddy— looked at me with the eyes of a hunter about to trap the long hunt

Lingering galances Dancing touches between time Our secret language