Today a cleanup, storms' aftermath. Humidity is in the air.
I do remember the good old days. Never kicked out of the sandbox.
The sun cascading across my face. Perhaps I am green with envy.
I held to my throat a sharp dull knife. A wicked tongue worn through the years.
The tree now above my head does drip. Evaporating are my thoughts.
In the end the heart does stop beating. Yet a legacy lives for time.
As I drift away in to deep sleep, a barn owl is now preying.
The ground is coldest at three feet deep. A frozen heart knows no frostbite.
Today I did smoke for the cheddar. Yet I gouda been more cheesy. […]
Within religion, grey areas. Monumental choices each day.
The sun is setting, yet still brings hope. Tomorrow is a new found day.
Erase your ease and your comfort. Life is not always pink roses.
The fork, spoon feeding knife-like sharp words. Cutting a new path for today.
Below are my fears so far away. I push them down inside my mind.
I peer through darkness, scared of shadows. The least resistant path I take.