I write with
wounded ink...
Living in harmony
I'm afraid we will never achieve...
The fight is about to begin,
And the foe is within me...
I long for something with passion,
Dripping out the seams...
The sound of my voice
is an odd thing to hear...
Emanated on earth by hook or by crook
we live and breathe the gift of life...
Can't undo the past
learning from it is the key...
Winged
days...
Moving forward was a dream
closing all doors...
Their little hands
one day will be big...
Grief is not based on numbers
sorrow does not require a certain speed...
It is so easy to get lost in a jungle.
Fallen trees, debris amongst many other weeds will...