We drifted, waiting for help to arrive
A kind of rude health
On day, things will be different
There are places where the sea forgives and mountains move
and things will begin and have an end
First you have to catch the snake
The bodies of the young are larger
My father was wheelchair-bound, and looking back, he was always wheelchair bound
I suspect, but do not know, that I am lying
It is euphemistically called, "A Girl's Weekend."
I suspect I will miss things, dead
A lot of time in kitchens
Suddenly, sun. Eventually, rain.
It is a quite ordinary funeral. I could just say "funeral"
I am working my way through trees
Love, or an approximation
And then they tell me the average, £29,672.