Ink smears, as thoughts sometimes do. ~Terri Guillemets

Some days so many words rush to my head,

But I don't know how to say them
So I write them instead


Monday, September 20, 2010



Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
-Rupert Brooke

I found a patch of daisies.
The grass was quite green.
In the middle, was a white patch.
I thought it was snow.
So many daisies, all in a row.


No comments:

Post a Comment