I have a friend of mine fighting cancer. I lost my uncle and my grandma to this disease. I am not sure what end awaits me. Each morning I go out into life expecting to live a hundred. I want to be there for generations, forever. I plan to give it a fair try, one hundred is not a far cry! Someday I wish I could grow wings and fly.
I know I have been busy I have been busy digging Little pits in shifting sands By a choppy sea, and waiting For my little dreams To form puddles in my living And slowly watch its walls collapse Into itself Water to Water Sand and all Amidst the roaring of the waves And the silences Of the droopy willows Crying In the falling rain
Words are your wings... You do fly! Keep soaring.
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