(no subject)
I'm running away from all my problems and they will just come back to haunt me.
Baby, you make everything bad go away until reality slaps me in the rear.
I'm not tired, but i want to be, so i can sleep and sleep and not have to worry.
My "sister" talking to me again has reminded me of her favorite poem a few years ago.
[excert.]
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
-Robert Frost
When we moved here, i drove past Birch Lane and wanted to live on that street SO bad because of that poem. Thank you, Mel.
I dressed up in black and orange for work. and gave people a bunch of candy.
fatties.
Baby, you make everything bad go away until reality slaps me in the rear.
I'm not tired, but i want to be, so i can sleep and sleep and not have to worry.
My "sister" talking to me again has reminded me of her favorite poem a few years ago.
[excert.]
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
-Robert Frost
When we moved here, i drove past Birch Lane and wanted to live on that street SO bad because of that poem. Thank you, Mel.
I dressed up in black and orange for work. and gave people a bunch of candy.
fatties.