Many things I write are thrown in the garbage or left alone.Β NowΒ wanting to show why; they made no sense. This was from the garbage bag as why they were never shown.
I start with a candle oh so bright,
Lit it up just as it got night.
Watched it burn bright that night,
Oh, how I hope it can burn all night.
Shadows ,and images, shown it the light,
My how they danced it the bright light that night.
People who knew me stared at me that night.
Thunder and lightning lit up the ski, oh,
how beautifulΒ it was that night.
Sugar and spices she made it that night,
Laughter and shashterΒ we put away that night.
Oh, how I wish, that candle would last through the night,
smile as I may, the candle half burned, it make it all night.
If I were sober, if I we Sain, I would stop all this party at night.
Sense I am older, and the light is still bright. I think I will party again allΒ night.
Though the darkness, and through the light,
If finally came through it was all over, the candle is gone,
What is left is my memory, all mushy, trashy and long gone.
What if saint peter had came in the night? Would I have known him, would I be right? Would I have been better to put out the light,
Turned down the shutters and said good night.
A Messenger,
Verl K.