Mountain Laurels - Rogue Valley

From the western edge of highway one

To the east of Appalachia

I got my ticket baby here I come

Following the

Crows and colors

Toward September

A promise written with a nervous hand

With a stroke of a shaky pen

Bottled up and buried in the sand

Castles built and

Taken under

Gone without a trace

Watch the clouds along the coastal range

Through the desert and the empty space

In Pennsylvania you can almost taste

The mountain laurels

When I lay these flowers on this grave

And do the math to find the final age

I think of all the different ways

Darling don’t

Be long in waiting

The locks and every

Window breaking

The darkness won’t be Long in taking

You