A student of law, poetry and humanity. Join me in my journey to find poetry in the mundane.
I miss your fingertipsPressed up against the glass of my winter heartYour palms lying flat against my chest, Rising, then falling.Rising, then falling. Rising, then falling.
There is more than poetry in the musicThere is spirit; something intangibleSomething remarkably restorativeand I long to wade in this unknown
Hello Poets, Authors and Friends,
Hello to all the emoti[c]ons and smil[i]esSwirling in the endless zine that is now a collective consciousnessWithin which we have borne our hearts…