Some poetry is succint

But I'm not succint.  See I have a lot to say about this little poem. I think it is so sad and sweet and so perfect because that is what we do, we humans.  We hang our tattered love out and hope for the best. Most of the time we don't even know what became of it.                                                                 


But it is so hopeful and so selfless we can't but help believe in it though we also fear it will be just a joke for some.




In other news, young son got a job at Medivel Times as a trumpeter, not the greatest considering he has a brain the size of NEW YORK but enough he can continue to pursue his music and the cool downtown scene that goes around it AND NOT STARVE AND END UP HOMELESS!