Orphans…

Orphans…

old photos in the wooden box
Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Sometimes I flip through some old stuff, and find lines or short works, or incomplete thoughts, and I post them in the quiet moments of weekends, perhaps you like them, or they help inspire, to me they are snapshots, ideas lost, or just something the moment has passed on, and with that, so here they are…

(1)
she ruffles my brow
as only she knows how
(2)
do I trust the path of crows
for they are mischievous sprites
do I stay the path I go
and risk the safety of never light
(3)
I looked up, and I thought:
“could I die under this sky?”
and yes, I could, I would, maybe not the radiant blue you are thinking of, but layered textures like purposefully settled sand, layers of slightly not the same shade but related, surely I do not want to go, but if this was the end I might not mind.
(4)
all of the circles of sand
when will they end
(5)
I see
rolling hills
of sand
from which wind blows
shifting landscape
yet remains the same
a one note
chameleon

notes… hey, always a chance to push my fave vocalist right now (doug pinnick is my all time fave along with tori amos)

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