These are the dark nights.

A new circle of thought is going down, whispering and whimpering in the fog.
Swirling arms are reaching out like a tentacled beast in his last call for air.
This is the nightlong emotion that keeps the dreams at bay.
We are pacing the wooden floors in silence searching the mind for a lost answer.
Silent and alone this mind wanders, waiting for answers that will never come.
This is the whispering call of the puppy who is whining just a few feet away from the warmth of its' mother.
A mother knows, she walks over and the eyes smile, they walk home.

I always thought that we would have this great reunion when I was sixty-four.
Swirling and dancing and great hugs abounding.
There are no words or paintings to describe this lose. There is no peace on earth.
I seem to be part of the dream that the world wants to forget.
What a disappointment it will make…
When I'm Sixty -four.

Gollum is learning the meaning of ....

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Words & Graphics by Tomas