The streets are slick with rain and I keep wondering where we went wrong.
Not when or why, because the when, the why, doesn’t matter any more. The why is why not?
I drive the snowy roads and remember that wintry day, the white out,
our photograph on the front page of the Atlanta Journal Constitution. Barely daylight,
there we were throwing snowballs, in the front yard on Highland Avenue. Happy. Our lives on fire. We were one.
12-1-07
1 comment:
Being an only the lonely I thought your title would
be something I would say in the deep of night but
now I can see that having a sibling(s) does not
guarantee closeness.
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