Dylan might have had a less troubling future, for the sixties were rocky times and roots were not well seeded, but came never a savior to discourage his propensity for defying convention and thoughtless risk-taking
tho was done by no fault of me,
I was begun in the West,
turned loose from there to wander
wherevever He directed,
and for all 's come since then,
will know my rest in the East
Where is that clump of earth
Where sanguine I will lay and
Write beneath a spruce and cloud
Of the promise I shirk and
Ink the refute to no longer shrink
’Stead water the life within me?
#VSS365
She was elegant, radiant as she stood beneath the dazzling lights of the theater marquee and in the red silk full-length strapless gown she wore, she was a testament to success, all that she had achieved. All she had come to be without him.
#VSS365
She did not wear shorts or jeans, but dressed as if she was going somewhere it was important to leave a good impression. But she rarely went anywhere. The silllage of a fine perfume, ever-present, but subtle, lingered about her, like the smell of jasmine in the spring.
#VSS365
Fate returned me conscious from where I do not know. Aside me, words in my hand tho I did not write them: slipped, tripped by quiet rumors, warm embraces and satin whispers, last night's sweet indiscretions immersed in morning's reminisces, wonder why you left them Here
#VSS365
Where is that clump of earth
Where sanguine I will lay and
Write beneath a spruce and cloud
Of the promise I shirk and
Ink the refute to no longer shrink
’Stead water the life within me?
#VSS365