New Poem:

This two hour symphony plays over and over,
confusing my head to the point of death,
but I know this life is meant to be:
Meant to be...me

And I touch your shoulder
the paint comes down, tears play across your face
I don't know what to expect in this:
The Montage of Our Time.

As she gracefully walks across the steps,
Confusing my head to the point of death,
I wonder...
I wonder what's this meant for anyway?

I gaze, the breeze blows back her hair,
revealing instant eyes and a 20 year old blonde cut faded smile...

Where are you now?
I wonder where the love's gone:
down the street, to the liquor store?
or across the sand, to the ends of the infinite shore?

I Wonder...