Iv'e been written things like this for year, s. On little scaps of paper. Once they were down on paper I would throw them away! A whole lifetime of thoughts thrown away! They come to me at strange times of the day and night. First thing in the morning most'ly.I feel like Im writting things under false pretences.I always have a sence of guilt afterward. Maybe thats why I destroyed so many? ....... Since I've last written. I've survived CANCER. I've survived COVIDE. I'VE survived a nasty fall, seven stitches in my face! . Surviving isolation and shielding! . Maybe I can write again? ? ?
The brain of a new born baby
all new and freshly made.
Empty of all knowledge and thought.
Open to the world for all import.
Is it Blue or is it Green?
It has to be looked at to be seen.
Even then I'm not to sure.
When I was thin, life was fun.
When I was thin, girls looked at me.
When I was thin, clothes fitted me.
When I was thin, I could run.
She lay's in the crook of my arm.
Vunerable, fragile, asleep.
Muscles tighten, I feel her strength,