not much for the new year
So much to do, and so much to say, I might intone, as I've been away. But when you've been so far afield not much the memory can yield except to lurch and grind to a halt. It's just my brain. It's not my fault. I've run wild and fast and free, and scarce remember who is me. Though here I sit, both full and empty, and wonder what this year will bring, full of hurt or joys a plenty; will I cry or will I sing?
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sarahsmiles) wrote,
