Phil Clay - July 31, 1964 - February 22, 2003

No woman is ever wise
Or good until destiny
Has subdued her by
Grinding her fondest
Hopes into dust.

Comes the dawn

After a while you learn the subtle differences
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn't mean security
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads
On today because tomorrow's ground
Is too uncertain.  And futures, have
A way of falling down in mid-flight,
After a while you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much,
So you plant your own garden and decorate