Late summer southern sun
beaming down on Sunday afternoon
Far from the place you call home
you are comforting those you love
And I love you
I long for you
Your absence is necessary
Your kind face
Your laugh
I miss
Your kiss
Your embrace
Your love
As you would say
"There you go"
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
-
▼
2018
(251)
-
▼
August
(21)
- Red Sunrise
- This life forever expanding and contracting as our...
- Over and Over
- On Death
- Eternal Life
- To Do
- There You Go
- A Gathering Storm
- Amputation
- Drown
- The Days and Nights
- When a grain of sand is moved has the whole beach...
- 5 a.m.
- Rebirth
- Love
- To Be
- Open Honesty
- Other Travels
- Cat Circus at the Governors Mansion
- Tired and restless Warm summer night left me tossi...
- Where Days Begin
-
▼
August
(21)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
No comments:
Post a Comment