It may be the most obvious statement, but the seasons always seem change at exactly the right time. Since I’ve been in NY, I’ve experienced a week of Spring, four and a half months of a brutally humid, hot summer, and now three days of pre- Autumn bliss. Nothing perhaps magical, crisp, and stylish can describe the streets of Manhattan in this phase. It must have been this time of year that I always day-dreamed about when I thought of the big city.
Autumn is Fall-ing
I guess it’s best I bite my tongue for what might come out It might be cruel it might be true and I feel it without a doubt I get pushed to the limit that tears are not enough So I just sit politely and silently and hold in all the stuff That is tearing my down and breaking me so I know it is impossible to let it all go There is reason and worth to what I am feeling Yet you don’t seem to know or care for my seething So tonight I will just bite my tongue and say goodnight And hope to forget it all by the time there is light
Bite my tongue
Fallen Riders
No flores para los muertos have been bought for our dear rodent friend. He seems to love fresh bought bread nicely packed and sealed for our protection yet once the unassuming, peanut buttered black sticky pads come out…he is no where to be found. Maybe I can lure him out with Reese’s Pieces. Worked for ET.
Flowers for Algernon
