To turn the hands of time... To slow it all down and pick the ripe low
hanging fruit of our hope trees... To act out a dream, exit stage left, and
make way for another play... To be a fool for a lover who could do with more
than what’s called for... To strip down and tear it up... To turn up and put it on since our minute-hands are like chalk and cheese... To go merrymaking and
cherry-picking more often... To sweep a tint of radiance over another’s
tip-off, recognizing they’ve somehow enhanced our own… To just do it... To find irresistible...
