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I Talk To Myself
all the time
in the language
of solace.
When the seasons come to the meadows
and I note the beauty of the daisy and buttercup
in the quiet countryside.
I talk to myself
when things in need of doing get noticed,
and in response to the news
pouring out of various devices.
I talk to myself in traffic
and when looking for my glasses
and when surprised by a spider.
I talk to myself all the time
with a whispered tone
in the language of solace
I am fluent.
An Architect calls. The door was opened by a smart woman in her thirties, wearing the customary business attire of white blouse and dark blue
Please be gentle. This has nothing to do with the current writing sugestions but I see that sport was a sugested subject last year and
Those magnificent men in their flying machines. After a rather serious crash during a motorcycle race necessitating a period of hospitalisation and a diet
The last Picnic. The higher clouds are etched in pink, while the lower ones are already dark, below the suns reach as it speeds toward