one word [wash]

(ref: here)

Dreams of sidewalks, chalk-stained memories, child hood in rope and spindle.

I walked the scattered moments of my youth and I hold things; a spotted owl, rifling through the trees, sees and ignores.

Me.

And, like so many almost-deja-vus, I am home again.

And it is home.

But I am different.

And it's okay.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Chapter 01 part ii

Chapter 01 part i

30.09