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|In The Hush: 09/30/2004 - 6:04 AM |
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in the last moments before dawn with your breath like steam against my neck crisp golden leaves glide toward the earth casualties of nocturnal breezes chilly nighttime drizzle and nature's beckoning to just let go and I understand as never before that autumn is made of frailty. |
Job Opening, Likely Temp Work - 11/30/2005 Damn It - 10/08/2005 True Words For Too Many - 10/07/2005 A Drop of Golden Sun - 10/07/2005 Fraud - 10/01/2005 |