My words are a direct reflection of what is being played out in my mind. For artistic purpose and dramatic effect I have duct-tapped the "edit" button…
We have a conversationSame old same old Yet, it never passes the test of timeMy mother won't hold my hand But she told me she would always love me...onceWords spoken dead of night dreams illuminate She comes to me in a haze of clouds A heavenly sound; flutter of angel's wingsI hesitate to remain emotion …
Odd the way people come and go floating in and out of my life and as the wind blows it's just another reminder how walking from here to there can more often then not lead to somewhere and it's been years since I've felt the flutter of angel wings against my brow or the holier …
Ode to the woman that carried my name that carried the ties that bind and if truth be told - love behold the gentler times are all that matter today a day that time dissipates into tears of joy and memories reflect tints of glorious color while the sharpness blurs into muted shades of gray …
Trilby Yates 