http://www.mikefrenchuk.com
The grey stone hides its meaning,
Bolivian soldiers on a cold
November evening.
The sun dances drawing feelings,
Friendship together footsteps reeling.
Inside their room an empty space,
hidden treasures in the look of her face.
If only the dead could take on life,
Kiss her again from Hade's knife.
Out into the sepia, "Fuego" comes the cry,
Bullets tear as they remember how to die.
http://mike-french.blogspot.com/2008/03/remember-how-to-die.html
for a moment there, i thought we were in trouble
TheRise0fBrutality 1 year ago
Awesome poem :]
rebaashley 2 years ago
after the death of paul, the only consolation i have is redford being alive and can certainly relive those good old days of sundance and butch.
noelgsal 2 years ago
Cool
jkoff76 2 years ago