| Garage Band Part 3: The Downside of Music |
| Pale green shadows seep through the cracks of my squinted eyes, products of yet another Christmas come and gone. Maybe it's the snow or just the twinkling lights, but I've become nostalgic for the sunshowers and your offer to run. That old stop sign stands in the exact same spot, so why did our position change? Two years of waiting surely shouldn't disrupt the delicate balance of its cemented fate. Now concluding that the dream is unachievable for new recruits, I turn my hopes back to you, filled with -----guilt----- I take your hand in my own, trusting you now and wishing that I had taken it on that day so long ago. The shame in your eyes is cleverly disguised when you close them, but I can feel the truth pulsing in your fingertips. Unfortunately this could never be, our time has passed and the tar has moulded into lumps of regret. Sometimes I wish I could read your soul like a book, or just wring it out as I would a wet towel. The drops would fall onto the parched pavement and maybe sizzle at first; it hasn't rained in years. But then the pools would form again and we could relive those days when all we wanted to do was run. Written on January 18, 2000 |