A Passport to Blow

They blow, they soak, they make their presence known;
Entering the land, no passport they own;
Wind & rain, mix and match;

Hovering from one place to another, they lash.

Living the Memory

I won't see you anymore
But I will always remember joyous stories from the past
When today and tomorrow cease to exist
It's those memories that stay to last

- dedicated to my good friend AJ Matela.