There are some rather odd and ridiculous sayings that come to mind under the influence of such mischievous quiddities as whiskey and autumntime.
Wonders of Whiskey and the Willow Tree
Cut Roses
I've lived with//Vicariously numb fingertips//I have sat//In surrogate silence//This life is mine to save//Leaving cut roses on your grave
Ruminations of a Working Man, Pt. VIII: What Sense is There
Moment by moment You next chapter is in progress And as much as you won't like to hear this The words are scrolling past you With every tick of the clock's second hand With ev'ry unfurling of rose pedals Should you meet a wizard It would be well worth the second to make a note... Continue Reading →
December Rose 