And so it’s still the white rugged gypsy
Taking turns up the hilly streets
On a misty morn’ and it might just drizzle
For a joyride I’d climbed on
The backseat that was old and worn out
Beside mom and bro’ to travel
Up the ‘lovers paradise’ lane they so called
And the roads were dwindling
Farer but nearer to our destination
Our thoughts aplenty but little to say
This misty drive, we’d rather be alone
In our own worlds where there might be
Some spaces of fancy dreams
Some reasons we might find for the living
And down the misty mountains and hills
Seated still on the backseat
Memories were created
Of family that can never part.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Ritz, how, just how can u make something so mundane seem so wonderful??? Perhaps thats the gift u own which sets u apart. Why, you made me miss home reading this. And i love the way u described the silence shared among you there. Some silence are awkward, some are just bliss. U captured that wonderfully, i think. Great goin dear...
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