Turn Abouts

Early morning, silent house.  Sun shining on memories that don't quite make it through the glass.  Night time, crickets chirping into vast, empty sky; So little down here, so tiny, so small.

We've all lost someone.  People move on like buses, like souls on wheels.  Our banged up hearts get fixed like dents from a bumper; shiny new face ready for next ride, next fling, though sting from the hurt still there.  

Let me hear music!  Let me dance!  Let my tears turn to glimmer!