And the sun filtered through the tree tops, streaking the ground with shade. And the warm wind blew on my face, my hair into gentle curly ruffles. Your mediterranean surroundings, in the middle of nowhere right in our city. And the garden shed, with all your vehicles surrounded by white pebbles. You brought me to the middle of Mormon land. With orange trees dotting the landscape, over looked by a mountain of fir trees. The beige carpet of dead grass and rotten orange fruit. And green roses caving the ratan swing on the porche, your dogs circling the area, their tongues wagging. The heat in the air, the bright sun and here in the dark I look out and find that there is much beauty in a world like this. I do not care to judge myself, or you for what we have become. I only know that what is wrong, may some times be right, when a heart or two needs a mend. I know that you or this place that I embrace with extreme love, may turn into a prism of light fading into the sunset. But while I sip
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on. Robert Frost