Writing

The ominous clouds meandered in the sky, lightning electrocuting the air while Philip grimaced on his bed– or soon to be deathbed.

“Roger that– I’ll meet you there to discuss the suspects” buzzed Officer Spormore’s voice through my walkie-talkie as I sat down in the meeting room in the police station.

There's a kind of love

And it's like hide and seek

An endless chase

Of shadows with flowing hair

Whispers of names and delighted laughter

Out of sight, whistling around you

it had seemed almost magical that evening.

twinkle lights strung up around, 

affixed to the wooden fences surrounding, 

holding us in.

Verse 1
I counted constellations on my ceiling
Tried to make your name out of the light
They say everything is always changing
But I stayed the same every night

Red

White

And Blue

The colors of America

We parade down the streets

Covered in these colors

I wonder what our parade will look like

This year

Will we parade with joy

Celebrate tragedies