The sun is still
It reminds you of peace:
"Take care.
you'll be there"
The wind holds stance
of an ever-winding face
Even it knows
It flows and goes
Plodding pine pries
"where do you see demise?"
But you do not answer
Nervous. Writhing.
Eyes burn faint and quick.
Without pretense or interplay
you tell me you can't stay
It's been some time since I've written anything. I wonder what causes play primary. I don't know. Could it be the heat, the laziness of summer, my family's sudden changes? I think, whatever the cause, that I can take a down. I know how to use this time to add to my repertoire. Hopefully, the plans i have for cinema exposures go well. Those sort of experiences tend to help define someone. They at least open unused brainscapes.
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