Dead Friends
The sun sets every day I am sure So why I wonder does this one pass me by? Demons long
the poetry of James Stoeckmann
The sun sets every day I am sure So why I wonder does this one pass me by? Demons long
Take this oak its broad umbrella green and massive Leaning comfortably upon its nest of feet below Without a care
When tragic looked my way wanting Desperate, she numbed her lonely fears Drinking up her fantasy of life re-lived Her
