Where does imagination go when we die?WIll it click its heels and wind upback in bed, surrounded by family?Or perhaps it will spend eternity weavingth..
The naked branches of winterbones showing; swaying as they catch the snow.have watched, waited...contemplatedthe voice remembered, the warm breath;of ..
Closed eyes to sense the three beatstwo hearts, and the drumsthe song moves and takes us with it.Parted lips, knee and thighI hold you touching the wh..