Poem -
Random stuff I have no tittle for
As a child my mother would read us poetry
I was too young to understand
how fire and ice and leaves falling were actually love and grief and loss
Now I cling to them like a dying man's wish
They come to mind in the dark
And I wonder if I will ever touch someone as they have touched me.
couldn't sleep last night. Not my best, but not my worst either?
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Comments
Every thought or moment that is captured in our mind is worth writing about and worthy of sharing with others. I find that my best pieces (or ones that I am most proud of) are produced when I can't sleep. Keep writing, friend!Â
Tehmina xo
Thank you. I appreciate your input.