  found this as i was cleaning out my wallet (literally and figuratively): do you still take solitary walks on windy afternoons as they turn to a soothing twilight and melt into night? do you still write honest poems when you have nothing to do or are driven by some unexplainable force in your soul? it's nothing, i was just wondering, remembering, how you are. maybe you were fortunate enough to achieve a calm communion with the spirits within your soul (or maybe you're wondering what tragedy has struck to make me this crazy). 
