Without memories all of us would be seasonal creatures,
with so many dreams that have yet to become reality and
far too many realities which could have been left for dreaming.
Would you believe I see June
in that cold January rain?
Remember the rain in June
and the house we called our own?
Ode to a contented husband
(or the happy and speechless poet)
Why is it uninspiring to be happy?
Does a contented mind always have to be so dull?
Was it so much better in my misery
when my greatest pleasure was to sulk.
New Season: Writing & Editing - Hi all! The summer of writing has begun! Thank you for your notes and TRAFFIC! I will update you here periodically, but for now all past content is being e...
4 weeks ago