Writer. Wordsmith. Poet. Obsessed with all things hedgehog. The beauty of the story is in the journey, not the arrival.
The squares are filled and in line we wait,
soft bellied mannequins,
secure in our appointed space,
Strange Days ~
A stranger tells you that you are made of strange days,
that those children fair and full of grace
are not related,
are not for you.
Another day in this house of mirrors,
the hallways heave with amusement as your eyes are foiled once more…
A trick of the light?
A trick of the trade?