January 2009
6 posts
Looking through stained-glass lenses
Whenever the world gets too much
It’s just too much work to try and escape
So all I do when it does get too much
is take my glasses and hold them a bit off my face.
Droplets
When the clouds cry and raindrops turn into tiny moons, windows turn into reflections And pillows a sanctuary.
And the light dissolves; crystals of salt in bitter coffee a sharp tang fills the air the wind sings its haunting song.
If winter was here, perhaps then I could understand why my hands are so cold and my breath in an icy grip.
But the world is washed in shades of gray. Brittle, like...
rambling
Christopher once told me and the world through her wonderous nonsense what she felt about love:
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Once upon a time there was a girl who met a boy, and she felt that he was the one, and she felt her chest burst open with birdsong and plumage of fiery passion, proclaiming to the world that this might be it.
And when the birds lost their voices and their fire, they crumbled into...