Delving into my poetic and darkly misspent youth (oh wait, I’m still there…!) a bit at the moment [inset laughing crying emoji], and I’m really enjoying re-reading and re-living the thoughts of my mind when I wrote these pieces….and maybe a bit of bone??? Yes.

Before my time. J R Manawa.

If I die before my time,

and all that I strove for,

had not yet come to pass,

Create for me a monument of sorts,

Not in stone eternal,

But in paper temporal.

Put together an oddment,

Of all my ramblings,

And with it, this account

of all my shamblings.

Decorate it’s cover not,

With angels and flowers

and memoriums,

But rather with sand and

dirt to which we return,

and maybe a bit of bone,

For though I’ve ventured far,

My soul, and my heart,

we’ve never been alone.

My friends were dear,

My love was great,

And all of it you should find here,

inside a paper book.

And that doesn’t rhyme!

But niether does life.

And well all die before our time.