Saturday, August 11, 2007

a life whose free

They sit amongst the details
Tiny coves where children play
Inside the walls are shallow
Allowing thoughts to drift away

While parades of decades swallow
In drones whom sweep new day
The lot will try to storm them
By melting hearts into old age

But all they wanted was to find this
...Their life activity
So they soaked their hands in Sunset
Just to find a life whose free.