keeps getting in the way.
my own little world
becoming shabby and neglected.
rotting, crumbling, flaking.
dust, rust, cobwebs, cracks,
and never enough time
to fix one thing.
~
(was that some kind of lame attempt at poetry, or were those just my thoughts?)
.
I’m listening to the kind of music my parents would always put on when I was little. It’s making me think of that beautiful grass-and-asphalt-drying smell after a short sharp shower on a Summer evening. Unexpectedly comforting.
So here is my favourite Roy Orbison:
He was one of Dad’s favourites, for a while. (Which may surprise you a little if you remember my mentioning this stuff before).
It was either him or ELO, but I think ELO already get enough attention. R.I.P. Roy.
Happy Friday, and warm fuzzies to y’all.
~xx~
April 27th, 2012 at 11:30 am
Oooh, the big O. :)
April 27th, 2012 at 11:36 am
Leg-end. :P
April 27th, 2012 at 1:52 pm
Great stab at poetry. I can understand what you said! Well done.
April 27th, 2012 at 3:47 pm
Thankyou :)
April 27th, 2012 at 8:07 pm
You’re soooo hilarious. Here I am, drawn into your poetry, and BAM! You hit me with your hilarity. :D HAHA. Love the poem!
Pink.
April 27th, 2012 at 9:10 pm
hehe, thanks ^-^