Just a tree, planted by the rivers of waters.
I heard the early warning call. The heralding before the fall. I cupped my hands to catch it, but it took me with it, hands and all.
Something has got to pop off, can't always be a knock off. Sitting in my mama’s house, trying to get my rocks off. Something has got to change; thoughts, to rearrange.
I wanted you to like, when I write, about the things that I like. But you don’t like, anything that I like. And I like you.
I’m going to sit with my quiet, and learn to accept it! (I’m going to sit with my quiet, and learn to accept it!) I will ignite my fire, and burn through temptation!
Nest Upon the Sky
It was I, that built the nest upon the sky; Bid the bird to fall, before it began to fly; Cupped the sea in land, before it began to run;
A Window of Opportunity
That little black notebook was my grandmother’s most precious treasure. It was never too far from her side. I visited her as often as I was able, in the house she and her husband built. She was getting weaker, but refused to spend her last days in a hospital bed. Not when she had a perfectly good one at home. Bed bound, she could do little, without the help of her nurse; yet, she clung to that notebook with more strength than her frail body should have been able to muster. It was on my last visit that she told me why that notebook was so important. It belonged to her grandfather Robert, and written in it was the secret to time travel.