I had a nice day yesterday, things felt right, maybe a bit tight, but right. Then I woke up at night and this fell out of my fingers. I am unsettled ever since.
Sometimes, I think that writing poetry is a gift and a curse.
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I had a nice day yesterday, things felt right, maybe a bit tight, but right. Then I woke up at night and this fell out of my fingers. I am unsettled ever since.
Sometimes, I think that writing poetry is a gift and a curse.
reflections of an unquiet mind 
You continue to astonish me!
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I am not doing it on purpose 🫣 Thank you very much, Jeff. It matters.
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