Sorting through my things
see what i can find
picking through the past
see what's left behind
Multi-colored sweaters
that moths have eaten holes
a paire of breaded mocassins with worn out soles
Boots were made for walking
winds were blowing change
boys fall in the jungle
as i came of age
Black and white tv
with a broken 12-inch screen
dylan's highway 61
and jackie's love machine
I reread your letters and again
i cry great tears
light comes to the surface
even after all these years