poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
phantom limb,my lamb has gone missing,my wool and warmth taken from me,white and cream silk billows in the wind,my head turning to tell you,of the gifts that the earth presents to me,the grass birthing fruitful plants in which people lay,with stories to tell through lips caressed in love yet desolation,but now, only residual fantasy conversation […]