Angel, Saint, Devil's Spawn, Good

I Never Realized That The Blue Sky I Saw Was Not The Soft, Nurturing Sky Of Spring, But The Cold, Chilling, Lonely Sky Of Winter

It Is So Appropriate To Color Hope Yellow, Like The Sun We Seldom Saw. And As I Begin To Copy From The Old Memorandum Journals That I Kept For So Long, A Title Comes As If Inspired. 'open The Window And Stand In The Sunshine.' Yet, I Hesitate To Name Our Story That. For I Think Of Us More As Flowers In The Attic.

At The End Of The Rainbow Waited The Pot Of Gold. But Rainbows Were Made Of Faint And Fragile Gossamer-and Gold Weighed A Ton-and Since The World Began, Gold Was The Reason To Do Most Anything.

I Saw Myself Dancing Alone, Always Alone.

If You Hold A Bird Too Tightly, You'll Crush Its Wings