Maybe death comes when God runs out of rodeos.
Each of us can count our lovers on one heart.
Just make all the somedays soon.
Take to the sky – fathoms deep.
Found a windmill. Set it free.
Don’t fake left without me!
I fell in love when he pulled an azure sky from the glove compartment in his car.
Not a lawn, today. A rabbit.
What reasoning of a raindrop that falls from the sun?