Rose
She can’t see it my way
nor can I see it her’s.
She wants to relate to me in a certain way
and I to her in another.
My life is scattered in so many places
I doubt if I could bring it home.
Looking for the common we don’t lack strength
just success.
She’s pretty, smiling, or walking away.
gallagher
24 Mar 1979
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
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