Tuesday, March 3, 2009

It was the song that shattered when the musicians stopped listening.

In the White Horse, a boy asking for pie and a man staring blindly into space.
Loneliness as tangible as incomplete thought or moment of time years past.

Time always. Not the right time, she said. I agreed. She wore a beautiful gold necklace.

Not that I do not want it to be.

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