Poetry
The Fire
In the cooling air of the lingering dusk, the flames from the fire-pit clawed higher The steps to the wood-rack, heavy and slow, retrieving
In the cooling air of the lingering dusk, the flames from the fire-pit clawed higher The steps to the wood-rack, heavy and slow, retrieving
You perceive one of your unique hidden talents, something that you’re extremely passionate about and really good at from within yourself, work on it in
We don’t talk about our dark days. Of all earth’s lush night plant life, you choose to call the girl with war in her mouth
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Until you let go of what hurts you,
screaming won’t ease the pain.
The day stars new all is peaceful at sun up a fresh strong breath of tree’s The Christmas tree is filled with a thousand memories
The Walls We Build: “There is loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of
I’m skilled at bottling up my feelings but I’ll burst if you shake me. one pull at a loose thread and I come apart at