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Scrapbook
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A scrapbook on my lap. A soft head on my shoulder. Behind loose plastic pages are some fading photographs Peculiar fashion styles In the corner there's a baby Behind the infant smile is a heart I recognize. What was I doing then? Learning to take some steps. Then walking through adolescence some thousand miles away. And up in heaven God called a meeting. And in the space that was next to mine he chose to write your name. I never understood our weather here. Or how together life and death must dance. But I'll forever be most baffled by the subtle glances from who I landed. What are the chances There's the place where the story about us started and took the stage. It's been so many days. And now the bricks are starting


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