Mar c h

I read somewhere that one day the sun will die. The whole world and all of being seem so delicately violent now. All I feel is gratitude and grace for days spent under blossoming sunlight. But there are so many flowers and I don’t know their names. I dream of fireflies and slip. Please, let the birds sunbathe by the lavender river. I bruised myself on fresh paper but someone made me a cup of tea and everything is alright.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s