I think it’s always a good idea to try your hand at automatic writing or story channeling. Going into a trance like state (for lack of better words) and see what you ‘hear’ or are told.

raising from the former being that I once was

long ago there was never really any way to know

what was coming

what was on the way

what was going to be said

what was about to end

 

so I didn’t know. I didn’t go

I should have went

and I’m not sure why I didn’t

orange 627,,paloalto ,california

I grew up there

 

with her, the girl with red hair

the girl that would share her coffee with me

up in the tree.. house

that I made back in the summer of 69. It seemed like some sort of weird crime.. to like her so much.

I never told her because I wasn’t sure she would understand or even accept me for who I was.

 

I just wanted to smell her hair, it was like strawberries.

She dangled her foot across the limb of that willow/or oak tree so lazily and so cute

the way the sun shone in her hair

all I could do was stare

 

bringing me to my knees (when I remember)

the glee in her voice when I’d say her name all silly

yellow, she had a yellow shirt on and blue jeans on the last time I saw her

she had a flower in her hair, sorta like a sunflower.

She said she’d be back.

 

She came back but I never did

I couldn’t

since I died after that day

in some strange way

I’m not even sure how I can say