Notes Left Behind to Assist in Finding a way Back . . .
There is no real future here . . . only today at a time.
Tomorrow arrives so slowly that I'm never sure but what it's just a bit more of today, not quite gelled.
Her hair was not always white,
but black as the middle of the night . . .
Her eyes were always brown,
not temporary river mud when wet
with run-off, but actual down hair
of a new-born fawn, just before flight . . .