tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44332788198239009362024-02-20T01:17:35.967-08:00Fields of My MindIsaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-65027789252367675172009-05-11T21:53:00.000-07:002009-05-11T22:04:39.779-07:00Ain't No Woman Gonna Make a George Jones Outta MeHaven't posted in a while, little to no poetry to add right now (still writing a bit now, focusing on playing bass guitar at the moment). So, for those of you who actually read this (I think it may just be one or two...here's my itinerary for the summer.<br /><br />1: Grow some boss sideburns.<br /><br />2: Wear more bandannas.<br /><br />3: Attend some sweet concerts (Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr/Minutemen, Nine Inch Nails/Janes Addiction.<br /><br />4. Continue to work real hard for the almighty dollar all the ding dong day.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-71279754359326310292009-04-16T21:50:00.000-07:002009-04-20T19:58:43.550-07:00The CoasterIt's been a while, campers..but here we go again.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Coaster</span></span><br />Enjoy the ride while it lasts:<br /><br />It has its hills, drops, and planes<br />But it will still be worth the wait in line it took to experience it.<br />Don't worry if the car will jump the tracks<br />Or if it will come to a gentle stops after many wondrous years of a beautiful journey.<br /><br />Just appreciate the moments you've been given on the coaster<br />But if you look too far back, you'll miss where you're going<br />If you look too far forward, you'll forget where you've been.<br /><br />It's an exhilarating experience that I'm planning on cherishing,<br />If there isn't another chance to get off the ride when it ends and hop on again.<br />The track's not the same for everyone, but I can only pray they enjoy it.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-36047539872963917822009-03-30T10:01:00.000-07:002009-03-30T10:02:11.320-07:00The Dream KingThe lights from the city embrace the night's sky<br />A warm corona of love lights glow softly,<br />As the nocturnal mother winks her beautiful eye.<br /><br />As the twilight goes on, the nights never go out<br />The citizens sleep, but the halogenic symphony<br />of viridian, gold, and red stand firmly devout.<br /><br />They create a beacon of hope, seldomly seen<br />By those wrapped up in the evening's nocturnal dream.<br />These serene, peaceful sleepers do not hear the passing of the Jeep<br />That passes by as civilization bleats with the cries of ten thousand electric sheep.<br /><br />While the town's napping citizens rest with the sands of Morpheus in their eye,<br />They remember the lights of ancient cities,<br />And wells of forgotten grottoes, that have long ago run dry.<br /><br />Some recall the flickering flames that played on the temples of ancient Zion<br />While others see a lush, tropical oasis...<br />Visited by holy Arab horsemen, hunting the almighty white lion.<br /><br />People remember events long past, but still occurring<br />The electric lights flicker while the dreamers are stirring.<br /><br />As the rays of the sun have two hours to rise,<br />The gentles sleepers still rest with the dream sands in their eyes<br />Some conjure images of regal, courtly kings<br />While other weary travelers imagine barbarous things.<br /><br />The moon sinks and the sun begins her mighty reign<br />Over the lands, lovingly embraced by dewy rain.<br />The dreamers collectively begin to wake<br />When they breathe the first breath of morning...<br />The sands of sleep begin to break.<br /><br />Wakers all over shrug off their dreams<br />As the sun cascades the land in her heavenly beams<br />They never truly forget the times that have gone past<br />It is just hard to remember when they live their lives too fast.<br /><br />Morpheus, the Dream King, returns to his land<br />On his throne of dreams, he idly runs his fingers through sand.<br />Only a few more hours to go, to wait<br />Before the Dream King can help the sleepers remember their fate.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-71237524200040506262009-03-26T20:52:00.000-07:002009-03-26T21:16:57.158-07:00I Stared at Her Blankly (The Fated Lovers 3)Hers is a tale of morbid desperation<br />Searching for forlorn love in a waylaid station.<br />We reached each other, briefly, at university<br />But in highschool is when she set her eyes on me.<br /><br />Her eyes were green forests set in a world of pale skin<br />Her hair, ablaze, and smooth as rose satin.<br />When we kissed, her lips trembled with a hint of fright<br />Her tongue darted about, looking for a brief respite.<br /><br />From what she needed a break, I shall truly never know<br />For she kept her secrets and pushed them below<br />What did surface from that soul sounded like horror<br />Her heart filled with holes by a barbarian borer.<br /><br />She told me a tale so strange, yet so true<br />About a day, long ago, under a sky of blue<br />There was a picnic that day, with a grill<br />But that fortuitous feast was interrupted with a cry...<br />So shrill.<br /><br />The coals spilled over in a freak occurrence, so gruesome<br />The flames moved over to a group, a young infant twosome<br />The fire spread out to a girl aged twelve thousand days,<br />They all too quickly took her soul in a scorcherous haze.<br /><br />My brief lover's eyes grew misty as she related this tale to me.<br />She extended a hand to my leg, and then to rest on my knee.<br />I stared at her blankly, never fully understanding<br />Until this day, that seems so gruesomely demanding.<br /><br />You see, the young girl who had perspired,<br />Who met her untimely end on an impromptu funeral pyre,<br />Was of relation of my lover, so brief.<br />It was her great aunt who was devoured by Death's sharp teeth.<br /><br />She was close to the man who witnessed the flames, long past<br />Her grandfather lived with a pale memory that sailed eternally,<br />In his mind and soul, on a ship with a black mast.<br />Well, he lived his life as a sage, nonetheless,<br />He died of old age, with this he was blessed.<br /><br />I stared at her blankly, never fully understanding<br />Until this day, that seems so gruesomely demanding.<br /><br />With his passing, my brief lover was struck<br />With a feeling of guilt, she was left alone...with no luck.<br />Another person she had known had again passed<br />She rested her hand on me shortly,<br />For a moment that was not meant to be passed<br /><br />She related yet another tale to me<br />Of a brief interest of hers,<br />Who smiled with charming glee.<br />He was not mature, but constantly youthful<br />I wish I said he had a filling life...but I have to be truthful.<br /><br />He loved to dance in malls and public spheres<br />This charming man, hopped into a car in his late teen years<br />He was planning on visiting the local mall<br />To dance with poise and grace at a rather impromptu ball<br /><br />His party of revelers sped to the interstate<br />Where our handsome dancer met his fate<br />A car intersected with their baller's carriage<br />And our happy reveler never saw mariage.<br /><br />He used to dance in a way that was tasteful<br />An awkward teen, trying to be smooth and graceful<br />His dance did not end when he was struck in the car<br />For he salsas eternally on the wink of a star.<br /><br />I stared at her blankly, never fully understanding.<br />Until this day, that seems so gruesomely demanding.<br /><br />With all of this pain, death, and strife<br />It is no wonder my brief lover has a hard time connecting<br />In this mortal life<br /><br />We parted ways then, briefly, but she made various and sundry call,<br />Crying desperately in her mother's shower stall.<br /><br />I listened to her blankly, never fully understanding,<br />Until this day, that seems so gruesomely demanding.<br /><br />She talked on that phone and complained of her strife<br />Telling me she had her pale hand on a knife<br />It was late and I began to sleep<br />From the darkness, the pain from her had leaped<br /><br />From the knife to the thigh, sliced the cleaver<br />My brief lover, she had let Death deceive her<br />Mephistopheles made her think that death is an end<br />Instead of a beginning of a wonderful mend<br /><br />A mend, a fix, of many relations<br />That never had time, in mortal occasion<br />For Death may be an eternity,<br />But that forever has others waiting, as you will see.<br /><br />My brief lover, how I wish you can know<br />Why you need to not worry about Death and emotionally grow<br />For there is plenty of time left for forever you see,<br />So please live your life, enjoy your mortality.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-3787081359043419632009-03-26T20:45:00.000-07:002009-03-26T20:52:53.452-07:00All is NOT Fair in Love and War (The Fated Lovers 2)It was mid-July when we walked the fields of former battle<br />The heat was strong enough to drip sweat from the cattle<br />That grazed in the wheat-filled plots where not so long ago<br />There was a skirmish, a fight, a quarrel, you know.<br /><br />We walked down the lane, hand in hand.<br />You were my girl and I was your man<br />At least that's how it was before you stopped<br />And allowed our hands to come apart, to drop.<br /><br />You coughed and complained about the heat<br />And the sickness you thought that you had beat.<br />But, it stayed persistent in your system, my dear,<br />You hacked some more and wouldn't let me near.<br /><br />When we climbed a mighty tower made of stone, long ago<br />Where the ancient snipers picked their targets below,<br />I extended an arm to wrap around your side,<br />Yet you moved away..and sighed.<br /><br />Oh my Muse of former splendor...<br />What has made you lose this love and surrender?<br />Was it your sickness that ended our love<br />Or was it another reason, known only to those above?<br /><br />As we left that mighty, stoney spire<br />My love had begun to perspire.<br />Wilting and wasting like the flowers in this vase.<br />That others gave to me, in mourning..to try to replace.<br /><br />Replace what my love? This hopeless yearning?<br />That somewhere an essence of you is constantly burning?<br />Melting hot with the flames of our passion<br />That has passed long ago like last fall's spring fashion?<br /><br />You and I, we came to a place to rest.<br />A bench in a room of glass and room, made by the best.<br />You rested your head on me, as the sun set.<br />As of that day? Try as I might to not remember...<br />I never forget.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-8940635214936025022009-03-26T20:41:00.000-07:002009-03-26T20:45:37.457-07:00The Folks Who Live In Their HeadsWe speak in tongues barbarous and respectful<br />With tones polite and resentful.<br />This unabashed way of speaking,<br />Is rough around the edges...<br />Like a wooden floor creaking.<br /><br />Two people are talking by a steamy window pane<br />Their conversation lofting and lilting with their vocal refrains<br />Not truly giving each other their fullest attention<br />Never truly remembering the names that were mentioned<br /><br />Civil citizens live their lives in private spaces<br />Only thinking about their own faces<br />Rushing down private lanes in non-public sleds<br />These are The Folks Who Live in Their HeadsIsaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-85606671012493491862009-03-26T20:32:00.000-07:002009-03-26T20:37:38.542-07:00Self-RespectI don't need to be respected<br />Or socially protected<br />By beligerent peers<br />Who cherish the bland<br />And trample the land<br />As they persistently guzzle their beers<br /><br />However, i don't need praise from the intellectual sods<br />With their systematic killing of the formerly glorious gods<br />Don't treat me special if you think above others,<br />For we may or may not be from God, but we are Earth's lovers<br /><br />Please refrain from tipping your hat respectuflly<br />No one needs to appreciate me<br />Except for yours truly, myself and I<br />While I remain confident, and never awry.<br /><br />Be sure in oneself, so others also might,<br />Through self-respect one gains social respite.<br />You shall stun and amaze, when you should find right.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-20812598009179028792009-03-26T20:24:00.000-07:002009-03-26T20:31:42.649-07:00No Free DrinksAre there no free drinks for a hopeless romantic?<br />A person beleaguered by love, left lonesome and frantic?<br />It takes liquor to stifle the flames of Love unrequited<br />That have been burning since the day Love was ignited.<br /><br />So bartender, patron of brandy, and whiskey and glass<br />Pour me a double so this desire might pass.<br />A desire so near, but distant and far,<br />Has brought this hopeless romantic back to your bar.<br /><br />A night tormented with wonderous thoughts of what may or may not be,<br />With a lover so unabashedly and relentlessly carefree.<br />A kind face that one can mentally admire,<br />Is what this vagrantly shy poet requires.<br /><br />But if that is not on the menu tonight<br />Then never mind my silly insight.<br />Just pass a full glass over and let my troubled mind worry..and gripe.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-42912336284449439092009-03-26T20:17:00.000-07:002009-03-26T20:24:29.094-07:00The Olive BranchFingers grasping and grasping,<br />At things never seen.<br />Clutching and yearning,<br />For space in between.<br /><br />As light as a feather,<br />And as stiff as a board.<br />These are the things,<br />We no longer afford.<br /><br />Our youthful days of playing,<br />Have long gone past.<br />But our imaginations still fly,<br />At full mast.<br /><br />So draw up the ink<br />And bring forth the quill<br />And let the creativity,<br />from your mind, spill<br /><br />Onto the pages of books long scorned,<br />In boxes of rooms,<br />forgotten and unadorned.<br /><br />Isn't it funny?<br />How it was meant to be?<br />You find this,<br />A slight trace of me?<br /><br />Now close this window<br />and come over to me....<br />We can have crumpets and coffee<br />....or tea.<br /><br />We can waste the night,<br />Discussing philosophy.<br />From foreign lands,<br />We never had the chance to see.<br /><br />But first you must shut this window<br />And extend the olive branch<br />Of poetic discussion,<br />To the likes of meIsaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-7610996104137335012009-03-26T20:16:00.002-07:002009-03-26T20:17:10.384-07:00Creativity StrikesWhen Creativity strikes, it is never foreseen.<br />It comes from a land where few have ever been<br />When it visits, be courteous, be friendly and kind<br />For Creativity, in turn, shall expand your mindIsaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-11436747879821921542009-03-26T20:16:00.001-07:002009-03-26T20:16:47.085-07:00The Pen is My CanvasThe pen is my canvas,<br />The page is my brush<br />You are my subject<br />My colloquial crush<br /><br />I am unabashedly smitten<br />By the prose I am struck<br />In verse there is clearance<br />No darkness or muckIsaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-87105351617279503962009-03-26T20:15:00.001-07:002009-03-26T20:15:48.731-07:00Poems of Historic InsignificanceHere's something of lyrical integrity.<br /> A little note marching towards eternity<br /> While it may never truly reach those infinite shores,<br /> The prose will move others to pen wonderous scores<br /><br /> As I lay on my back and watch this wonderous light<br /> Cascading upon me, its rays of respite<br /> I linger, think, and ultimately reflect<br /> On the lives in the future I shall truly effect.<br /><br /> When I flip to the front and begin writing some more<br /> I wonder what exactly tomorrow's tomorrow has in store<br /> Will this verse from this page affect another's mind<br /> And crash eternally upon the shores of time?<br /><br /> Or perhaps it's percentage is one zero of chance...<br /> But I am eager and willing to compose, these poems..<br /> Of Historic Insignificance.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-78744990134960426952009-03-26T20:14:00.002-07:002009-03-26T20:15:07.353-07:00PollutionThere's too much pollution blocking our minds<br /> Keeping us from reaching, the splendors behind.<br /> <br /> The back of our thoughts, like curtains undrawn<br /> Never truly seeing, the light of the new dawn.<br /><br /> So shut off the pollution and unleash your true force<br /> You could make an impact, be it for good or for worse.<br /><br /> Noise pollution prevents us from hearing out inner desires.<br /> Visual pollution douses our collective visual fires.<br /><br /> But sit down alone in a peaceful, quiet place and be filled<br /> With a creative, serendipitous grace left un-willed.<br /><br /> You will find the pollution has left<br /> For a second, a minute.....<br /> That will soon be bereft.<br /><br /> Cherish the silence, the simple serenity.<br /> For this is the closest to mental eternity.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-18004205966073880272009-03-26T20:14:00.001-07:002009-03-26T20:14:36.762-07:00PebblesIf we were but pebbles<br /> Being cast into the pond of time<br /> I hope to make a ripple<br /> And benefit mankindIsaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-55797941326569559112009-03-26T20:13:00.003-07:002009-03-26T20:13:52.577-07:00Untrained MindsUntrained minds can be<br /> Relentlessly daunting<br /> Yet full of serendipity<br /><br /> It is with training that these thoughts can be truly harnessed<br /> And from them, creative thoughts can be garnished<br /> Onto anything or anyone, yet especially<br /> The minds of the future, or those yet to be<br /><br /> Poets teaching poets, whether directly or not<br /> Is something that attests to ways we have wrought<br /> Into our society of singers, of minstrels and playwrights<br /> Who write of the moon, the stars, and the daylights.<br /> <br /> This lyrical verse, left unread for the century<br /> Has lead poets towards their most basic philosophy<br /> ‘Write and recite, in both public and private,<br /> Be unashamed or just try to hide it’<br /><br /> For words made by one person has the chance to be<br /> Echoed in the halls of history<br /> So gather your inkwells, your pens, and your Bics<br /> And write something clever and right our minds quick!Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-59944726906929540392009-03-26T20:13:00.001-07:002009-03-26T20:13:25.198-07:00Second Place or WorseAs I laid myself to rest<br /> It occurred to me: I won’t be the best<br /> Eternally stuck in second place or worse<br /> No future poets shall read my verse<br /><br /> But I am content to never obtain victory<br /> Those who come after won’t need me<br /> For they are individuals, different and alike<br /> And so their minds I need not impact or strike<br /><br /> In first place, there lies a sickening guilt<br /> That chokes and smothers like a leaden quilt<br /> Within my place, off the pages of note<br /> I shall work my words and perfect my quote<br /><br /> Since I am so trouble-free<br /> Second place or worse sounds quite perfect<br /> To me.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-35727146387689167012009-03-26T20:12:00.001-07:002009-03-26T20:12:45.072-07:00The Doors of TimeAs we traverse the ornate marble halls<br /> We hear others orate immaculate calls<br /> Calls of love, cries of greed, pleas of persuasion<br /> Is what we hear on this splendid occasion<br /><br /> Walking through those stony passages we listen to something more<br /> The persistent pulsing of time ebbing and flowing through that wondrous door<br /> As much as we attempt to pull on the handle, we are so gruesomely shocked<br /> To find that the brass handle of Enoch’s Door is still locked<br /><br /> I looked to her and she to me<br /> And after some searching, we could not come up with a key<br /><br /> Initially frustrated but ultimately content<br /> We decided to leave and from the marble halls we went<br /> Back to our lands so rich and so pure<br /> With its maples and larches under skies of azure<br /><br /> After some debate between she and I<br /> We came to a thought with which we were satisfied<br /> For time has many halls, all straight as a string<br /> And the door to which leads to a center, connecting<br /><br /> Enoch’s Door is impossible for man to unlock<br /> To do so would interrupt the ebb and flow and cause havoc<br /> So here we sit, intertwined on the beaches of our shores<br /> As we ponder; How many others have witnessed the doors?Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-75049233917041567252009-03-26T20:10:00.000-07:002009-03-26T20:11:08.928-07:00The VisitorA visitor came to me from the door<br /> A man encloaked I’ve never seen before<br /> He approached me at my writer’s desk<br /> And extended a bony finger towards my chest<br /><br /> “Your mind or your soul, young poet, young man,<br /> Is what I require, it’s part of the plan.<br /> While your mind stays with you in mortal strife<br /> Your soul will keep you within eternal life.<br /> I need but one so make your decision quick,<br /> Or let me snuff your life, as a candle’s wick.”<br /><br /> I paused, sighed, and put down my pen<br /> Then brought up my head and thought of the glen.<br /> In youth I would play in that glen so free<br /> Always expecting to live careless for eternity.<br /> I thought of those days and how they have passed<br /> And smiled and thought ‘My chance has come at last’<br /><br /> “Oh Death, Ol’ Scratch, The Sandman, Mephistopheles<br /> I will tell you my decision and why it came to be.<br /> Take my mind, for my soul is too dear<br /> The future is uncertain and my end may be near<br /> Take my mind so that I may constantly be<br /> Eternally happy and endlessly care-free.”<br /><br /> From Death’s cowl, a flash of white struck<br /> And it seemed, with all of my strange luck,<br /> This is what he wanted, my mind, my brain<br /> The flash of white was a smile that is forever engrained<br /><br /> Engrained in my soul, but not my mind<br /> For I lost that long ago; left it behind<br /> The visitor left and walked out the door<br /> As my body slumped and my pen hit the floor.Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4433278819823900936.post-74174119145053081882009-03-26T19:46:00.000-07:002009-03-26T21:20:05.780-07:00See You Around (The Fated Lovers 1)Alright folks, sort of new to this. I've been writing for about three weeks now and came up with three parts of a series. Here's the first one.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">See You Around<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" >I see you around a lot these days,<br />Your sing-song voice lilting in a burned out haze.<br />Your blank, blue eyes often stare at me,<br />Reflecting the day that seemed an eternity.<br /><br />It was late in the year, the month of Fall,<br />When we met in a park, all the leaves falling...all.<br />You brought your cattledog and I brought a smile,<br />That was hoping for a moment, worthwhile.<br /><br />As we ascended the hill with its mud so wet,<br />You unleashed man's best friend, your pet.<br />We talked about everything yet nothing at all,<br />Our voices faint whispers carried by the winds of fall.<br /><br />Your dog ran circles around us as we climbed up the fort,<br />Wooden and silent with planks long and short.<br />You climbed up to the top with no hesitation,<br />then I traversed the rungs, my hands aquake with trepidation.<br /><br />We sat surrounded in that heavenly park,<br />Surrounded by silence, only interrupted by a playful bark.<br />While we sat together on those planks erected long ago,<br />You told me something you thought I ought to know.<br /><br />Some heady thoughts about the Industrial Revolution,<br />And how you thought it was the source of our current pollution.<br />Your words were boring, but I was entranced just the same,<br />Just to hear your singsong voice lilt from the mouth of your heavenly frame.<br /><br />We spoke some more, as you well know<br />And the presence of Autumn was graced with soft snow.<br />Powdery flakes that flew wonderfully and clear,<br />You turned to me, smiled, and said, "Let's get out of here."<br /><br />You leaped down from the fort with no hesitation,<br />I gradually fell, my legs aquake with trepidation.<br />Your voice lilted then in an intoxicating haze of snow,<br />As you leashed your dog, "Hey, Fido...time to go."<br /><br />We walked circles in that country park's leafy lanes,<br />Confused by the blizzard's oppressive strains.<br />We perpetually marched it seemed...for hours..our voices never speaking,<br />Off in the distance, I can still hear that wooden fort vigilantly creaking.<br /><br />It creaked and it cracked until we found our way back<br />Back to the place from where we embarked,<br />An empty gravel lot, where our cars were parked.<br /><br />After I hugged you goodbye in that snowy fog,<br />You smiled, laughed, and put away your dog.<br />You joined him too quick, or at least I have found...<br />Shortly after saying, "I'll see you around."<br /><br />I see you around a lot these days,<br />Your sing-song voice lilting in a burned-out haze.<br />Your blank, blue eyes often stare at me,<br />Reflecting the day that seemed like an eternity.</span></span><br /></span></span></span>Isaac Masonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08810504194573733578noreply@blogger.com0