what I have now is also not mine, that’s the bitter truth of life.
newspaper takes us fartherby hand where we’ll always see the truththat either move or disturb us!
I am bad with words I don’t talk…
Weathering myself
truth is that moonwhich will peep from the clouds,we need to keep looking for it.
the truth of my lifethere is no planbut there’s always a poem.
one day I will write a songwhere word’s don’t liefor now, let the words rhyme.
A Haiku
Two separate tales