Seasons come and go. And, some seem so quiet, barely a season at all. Fragments float in the wind. Mine, they get away as I come undone. Reach out— they disappear, Be still— let them return. Come and go.
A personal blog
Seasons come and go. And, some seem so quiet, barely a season at all. Fragments float in the wind. Mine, they get away as I come undone. Reach out— they disappear, Be still— let them return. Come and go.