Beginnings of March

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On hold


Don’t wait they say every day they say….. just write. But I can’t write that way. I need to be moved. could be by the simplest things a bird flapping it’s wings, a leaf floating by even just the way the shadows lay upon each other at dusk. I just can’t write to please them I write to please myself and everything I write I love.

I  am moved quite a bit yesterday I played catch with my son and his laughter set my soul a flight. time spent with him is magic and bottled for later when he may not be around living his life far away from me, I’ll then open the bottle and let the magic of that day spill over and drown me in the smell of the grass the coolness of the breeze and the light in his eyes and laugher that  could never be unseen.

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