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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #1964598
Some stream of thought that I had. I do not remember writing this at all, but I did.
Here WE go.

You know there's times when you think about things you wanna write down...

It comes down again and leaves you down and lonely dreamin'

There's times when these brothers come together unless you were there when it all began ...

They keep having this argument about if you forget why you started doing something. That's when it all falls apart

You know we all come from different mothers

And in the times of reason, we go back to the river. It brings us back and by the Wabash; we have our times of jubilee

It's during those times, we remember being children. We danced so long, and that's what it was to be a child. It was the only way you could know that you were in that timeline, and there were lots of friends that could come through the next day and age, but in our time, it was OUR time.

We made our way through dumbfounded masses. The children came out to play.

We walk up the strip and meet up with these kids at the fountain, dancing along.

Here comes the drummers and the harmonicas and guitars. It's Scotty and Trever.... Doesn't matter what we're doing in this brief moment...

As we cast our gaze upon the streaking water that passes by us...

It will never be the same... the sun is going down. Who knew?.. He pulls it outta his pocket and makes the blaze .... No worries though Joshua, Keith's right here









© Copyright 2013 Keith Allen (keithrudisel at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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