The Gold Flame!

It’s been years today to the first time we bro hugged,
First time since we sat across tables freezing and bugged,
First time since I noticed the color of your eyes,
First time since I stole a sigh,
First time since you switched places on the road,
First time since we shared the dense smoke,
First time since our jittery first nudge,
First time since the Italian was a waste buck,
First time since I decided on my cure,
First time since all firsts pure,
Here we are, today, in many of our firsts,
Like the gold flames, at a pinnacle!

Not A Waste!

Tomorrow,

On a Saturday morning,

My songs would wake up to the high waters,

They’ll glide through the storms,

And sing to the summer,

Walk towards the west,

Looking for the meadows,

I’ll thunder through the hay,

And shine brighter than the lightening,

Oh well, I crave the impracticable,

But, Ohh what a waste,

If not!