White mountain Nested between two trees The sun cast A shadow on the page As my hand writes The grass shapes round’ my feet I am cold Rays of sun give bits of warmth White mountain stares steadily Gaze unwavering, unending I try my best to stare back
Waiting for the paint to dry I want to start a fresh page but if I do not give this one its time it will bleed on to the next It will lose parts of itself and imprint where it does not belong Patience is a virtue, perhaps this is why
Water falls as you wash me wrapped between your legs Your arms over and around me Gentle and loving as they were moments ago in a bed where we groaned and touched and tangled loving safely and connected Budding trust and blooming bonds growing closer and closer together
Soft chirping of birds near The louder call of a goose glides by I hear the wind, high in the trees it's wrestling with the leaves, Gentle roar of a river to my right.
Why oh WHY would you choose the death you did. Leaving behind everything you've created In the midst of its growth. Before its full bloom, your loss cut the buds away.
I cannot write of love, or poetry, or stars I cannot creep into the dark abyss I cannot seep into the sink with yesterday’s cabbage Help me, I am burning in the oven! -My Pizza
You don't have to go, do all those things. You can simply be. Breathe in your air. Exist in your home. The rest of the world will always be there. Take it at your pace. No one is waiting on you.