I walk along a path; alone
with only my shadow...
Disparate visions, dwell in my mind.
Reels of metaphysical images...
The tree was old,
gnarled, and twisted...
As more voices intruded
poked then prodded...
Mothers are by and large taken for granted
Tries her best to give all we wanted...
No one can see and understand anything in someone...
Herman Hesse...
So many times
i have wondered...
For once -
I no longer loiter sidewalks...
The Days Of Old
In the days of old...
Winged
days...
Pain has been no stranger
At times my only friend...
Sitting aimlessly near the window panes
Familiar thoughts run across my mind...