Pardon my flab. I’m out of shape. But I miss the daily discipline of writing poetry. If nothing else, let there be poetry.
The reflective nature of secrets
The catch 22 of creativity . . .
The gift found in a perfect afternoon
It boils down to this
enjoying the simple pleasures of life
There’s a high price for pushing to be right instead of unified
It’s a hard time to be creative. Isn’t it?
scent, the sense with time travel powers