Andy_inaBEARsuit

hi! hehe.

i'm Andy.
' anything you want to know, just ask

Music

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon

Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon

And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her

Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days

Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made

And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings

Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves