Frisco's got a melancholy that's lovely.
Hollywoods' lights don't shine like the promise of their movies.
And New Yorks' street aren't at all clean in reality.
A dreamers naiive courage make-believes skylines of beauty.
Smoke to hope. Drink to play. Dying to eat but living for glamor.
All so unattractively unfulfilling.
I read them all and typed a comment to send. Don't know what happened to it but here I am. You haven't lost the beautiful gift for writing. I'm glad you have returned to it. Sometimes I feel I am inside your head and know what is going on in your life at that given time but am sure it is based on your thoughts, prayers, and moods. Thanks for letting me know about this blog!
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