Six in one
explosion, expulsion,
eruption.
Sick, sweet flow
nowhere from,
nowhere to.
Derived therefrom
hidden inside
not within.
Golden rod
twitch, tick
forward stroke.
"Time marches on..."
you said once
does that make it better?
I never want to go
leave away from here
I know I belong.
You always say
"Let's get out of this town,"
I'll go with you.
But for now,
I am satisfied
here, with you, forever (or not).
Your choice of course,
but mine is to
take your hand.
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