Wednesday, April 17, 2013
in the memory of bonfires on the hill
Aloysius was in the memory of bonfires on the hill and wonders of youth. I have called him a dreamed self but no he wasn't me, rather vital side of myself I could no longer see. Struggled for words left quiet in the need of security. Anger left muffled and finally ground to cold. Aloysius was someone I could only seldom find. Only coming to full on long rides with friends, on the roads rural and sincere. I piece together these tales to remember what I once was.