Just something I wrote a number of weeks ago and managed to misplace.
The rain is smacking the land beneath my window
and I listen intently for a sound I’ve never heard before.
I wonder if I was ever here –
When plants grow, they grow up to reach the light.
How do they know?
And where is my light?
My heart fills with every shade of red
besides the one I like.
I often wonder if I’ll ever find a frame
to hold a picture of me plus one.
It’s strange how we blame the smokers for tarnishing their bodies with chemicals.
We each have our vices.
Hold your fingers.
Writer and photographer from remote Labrador, Canada. Just another cold Labradorian chillin' in the Big Land. Can most likely be found walking my dog Grace or behind an iMac screen slowly taking over the interwebs.