Maybe When Your Mother Died Young, You

I'm Like The Weather, Never Really Can Predict When This Rain Cloud's Gonna Burst; When It's The High Or It's The Low, When You Might Need A Light Jacket. Sometimes I'm The Slush That Sticks To The Bottom Of Your Work Pants, But I Can Easily Be The Melting Snowflakes Clinging To Your Long Lashes. I Know That Some People Like: Sunny And Seventy-five, Sunny And Seventy-five, Sunny And Seventy-five, But You Take Me As I Am And Never Forget To Pack An Umbrella.

It Was Terrible When A Single Conversation With Someone Determined Your Whole Future Relationship.

Before You Know What Kindness Really Is You Must Lose Things, Feel The Future Dissolve In A Moment Like Salt In A Weakened Broth.

I'm Writing Mostly To Thank You For Living You Eighty Years And To Tell You I Love You And Think Of You Often.

Where We Live In The World Is Never One Place. Our Hearts, Those Dogged Mirrors, Keep Flashing Us Moons Before We Are Ready For Them.