Wednesday, March 9

There’s always too much of something and tonight I’m afraid it’s me. Winter won’t end and I don’t know what I’d do if it did. Spring is rebirth full of new and I can’t let go of the old. Old and dead ideas. Old and dead hellos. Old and dead goodbyes.

The tide is turning. The tide is always turning. Trust me, boys. What’s low now will be igh again.

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