September 2011
5 posts
Me
I swore that
I would grow up
But
Never
Mature
… And my eyes
Are full
Of
Mischief
Give me a minute...
William Butler Yeats. b. 1865
863.
When You are Old
WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace, 5
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, ...
2 tags
happenings...
it’s a balancing act
keeps you on your toes
everything is alive
you look at everything at the same time
and only some will look back at you
if some fall
catch one or two… or more…
and keep them close
