If I were dust on the wind,
I would travel far and wide,
nestle amid the sands of time,
whisper magical words in rhyme
to all who struggle against the tide,
teach their dreams and wishes to fly
free as dust on the wind.
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my car is not out front but out back i run a steep gauntlet up the hill troubling the raging red squirrels robbing blind the chickadees'... -
Swaddled in warm, expensive furs a confident middle-aged man sits claustrophobically tilted in his carriage. Rain beats down on his compartm...
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