Page 2, Drifting Sand (Continued)

Far from our grasp, we stare out into the blue,

Wondering if our dreams will last, or will ever come back anew...

And things and dreams,

Almost never turn out exactly as expected,

Like tiny boxes tipped over,

They spill the things we’ve collected,

Making us wonder what things are for, long after summer, fall, winter and spring,

Have gone away – we wonder what’s in store.

Author: Randy Stahla, copyright 2006.

And sitting here, holding pen in hand,

I know the drifting tide, I know the drifting sand,

That covers footprints, from where you came,

When you wondered and wandered,

And blundered and pondered,

Where your life was going,

Right after the time when – you knew exactly what to do.

It’s like leaving behind a storybook,

That is never read again.

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Blue Ballerina” was written for those who have lost someone because of a crime.