History, let us sleep with the softness of moths, pearled in worms turned white as knuckles, churned on old war grudges – let us die of each other under skies of loving larvae. O Rome, I’m a strung out symphony – the numbers furl from us like vellum smoke flowering along Watling. Mortal, the eye’s…
Month: January 2021
She
She let her dreams die But, Still she hears A silent whimper Somewhere Deep inside her heart..
A Special Memory For JJ
Footprints We make connections with people in life who touch us – but ultimately – We walk one way – one foot in front of the other- Creating footprints – in the sand – only to be washed away by the incoming tide –