And wipe their frozen tears with flannel mittens.

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To that place where sailors, clowns, and angels fill their lungs with icy air.

Will we not fly away?

And wicker baskets fill the spaces where I used to dream.

When my body goes numb, and all I see are sepia toned fields.

How we do.

If there is a dead mule across the street, you have to set it on fire.  C’est tout.

You don’t like me because my teeth are gray and I never smile at you.

Will the leaves ever fall again?

Tried out the new camera and love it.  Thank you guys.  Here’s one of the first photos.