Goodness grew up in a holiday town
A victim of circumstance
Faltered at the spinning wheel
Chance and fate could abide no more.
One million little pindrops
That held hands with knees that knelt;
Cannon for the triumph call
Of a Nation that goes unarmed,
Yet fights so mercilessly at
Windows of every vacant lot,
To grind away what deepest mysteries
Have ever dared to sit untold.
Tag: untold
Girls Dig Them (day 956)
I wear my vintage sweaters everywhere
They make me feel hip
Like Patti Smith mixed with Albert Collins
Kind of cool to the bone cat
It’s convenient because when it’s cold
I’ve got protection
Layered into vintage wools
And historic oranges
I used to care more about the holes
But now they’re marked with untold stories
Some days, if I’m feeling adventurous
I’ll make stories to fill them up
But mostly I just like the smell
Curling around me and calling me theirs
And the girls dig them
Especially when it’s cold out