Some of the best memories are made in flip flops.
Kellie Elmore
Resting on the roots of this old oak I lean back against his knotted trunk, shine my granny smith on my sleeve And ponder the days
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The train blows through towndelivering reality, slapping my face and screaming, You are aloneRose colored memories drown, taking their last breath.
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.. What happens when you returnand find nothingbut a hollowed shell, shingles and floor, walls and echoesand the light that lead you herehas now burned outand the ones who built ithave traveled afarand you cant go to them, no matter what shoes you wear.
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It's summer and time for wandering..
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