Posted on May 8, 2014
Where dreams are forgotten,
Where the sweeping air,
Chills hope and lost.
Where the stench of burning rubber,
Tells us life’s not fair.
Men will become heroes,
Not by choice but by circumstance.
And a chance to graze eternity,
Is met with happenstance.
Men will cry silently at night,
And tears will comfort their fright,
And a new sun brings news,
Of a desert that bites.
The smell of life will prevail,
And senses will deepen,
As we say our farewells.