Jan 7, 2021
2 min read
Hologram
A poem of addiction on my anniversary of sobriety
What is the beauty
of a crisp sunny morning
if not temporary?
The frost fades
shadows grow short then stretch long again
worms are consumed
Authentically sharing stories and poems from the heart about our experience of being human and our ongoing process of becoming perfectly imperfect. Writing mostly real and raw with a sprinkle of microfiction!
