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 TO SOON TO END

Loneliness calls whispering softly of days past. Brushing ones subconsciousness with its pouting lips. As with small feet it tip toes quietly. Slowly finding its way, to seep as liquid into the marrow of once strong bones. Causing one to shiver as chilled by swift blowing winds of life's winter. What depths and degree of  loneliness causes the wanting. That invades the core of ones being. Conjured from long ago, not forgotten children of the time. Days of strong bodies, carefree youth, and pliable minds. The tender innocents of childhood. Once taken for granite.
All to soon to end.

Nov 25th
2008 Russett Stubbs






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