changing through the seasons –
she now stands bare and exposed
Exposed
Tag Archives: writing
Worm
a tiny worm–
in its grand wormness
Heavy
it was as light as the future,
and as heavy as the past
Sprinkling
a sprinkling of snow in the woods,
and of sugar in hot coffee
and of friendship on this late November day
The Cold
the cold clung to everything,
except our beating hearts
Time Passing
we recognize the smell and the color
and the sharpness of time passing
Lines from a non-existant novel
that was the year i drowned
