The lad, the no income bard.And love just don’t cut it,when times get hard.She thanked me for the laughs,rhymes, and the billet-doux.But I’m a silk stocking girl,that needs more than you.In a silent shrug I understood.Still had my hair, still a handsomeyoung blood.Just one of those times life sendsyou back home.To pick up a penContinue reading “Write Alone”