The Gypsy heart…
Gypsy heart…. Her eyes, clear blue like the sea, her voice, gentle and sweet. She told me, open the locked doors, wide. We decide if our life and journey is, a prison or… Continue reading
The violence storms..
The violence storms ————————————————————————————————————– Whiskey didn’t kill me and war befriended me. Wounded heart that blood-out, had nothing left to lose. Pretty Poet told me in Monterey. California sun, last blessing dear soldier.… Continue reading