Lately all i could hear is poetry.. all i see is what Ernest Hemingway writes in his blank pages. His love of words is almost exploitive. I dream dreams of days past. When nothing really mattered except waking up and seeing her face. Seeing her smile and holding her in my arms. I miss you...and i have everyday since i lost saw you... This reminded me of a recuring dream im having.. with you
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day's divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it's quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us. Choose they croon the Ancient Ones The time has come again Choose now, they croon Beneath the moon Beside an ancient lake Enter again the sweet forest Enter the hot dream Come with us Everything is broken up and dances.
- Jim Morrison
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