If you can still tell That the earth is turning, It isn’t time yet To stop changing
he saw discomfort written on his hands and felt his will be thwarted by the world; the patterns, all chaotic, of perchance that settled dark in clouds and murky swirled he turned inside to search out where the light had gone, and why the bioverse gives pain; he wanted sun, the shoulder-sun of june, but … Continue reading "the meanwhile butterfly"
water will cover and change her dusty hopes
It's still out there to be found.
But yet, we falter --
... the time comes.
Music for traveling.
... in a new home.
The things we’ve done, we’ll do again Be they immense, or small; Our habits die a painful death Or never die at all