What a fine affair it would be if we could flit across the Atlantic as they say the angels do from planet to planet.

I would have made her a part of me. If I could, I would have had a notch cut in my already aging side and a slip of her, my young rose, inserted there and lashed to me with twine.

Hips make out forget what you thought you know As they all want me to be that one
You diss and go on to new kisses but no.
Give me snow and I will build a new snow man
To this bull baby.

There is a destiny that shapes our ends rough, hew them as we will.

Written By Frank Harris

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