At the end of a hard day, an easy-chair and a cold beer – a letter from a long-forgotten friend.

He beat death often, once he flew across the Southern Sea, he ditched his plane came up unhurt, not even scars, but in suspense if he’d survive the war, or if death catches him unripe,

A thing bright and beautiful.

Remiscing about roads travelled.

Part of a series of poems about Egypt

Before and after every situation there is a place where we measure life and love .

When I was a kid where I was a kid the cold, cold wind would blow relentless like an airy school or pirahnas... and I guess I never really learned to swim Sometimes were better than others

From Fife to Miami From Xbaox To Rooftops Bobby was a wanted man The underworld his biggest fans