I do stuff. So there.
You soar.
I sit,
restrained by plaster.
Consistently looked through,
rather than looked at.
I want to see more than
this room,
and that bush.
I covet adventure.
I want your open space.
Oh satellite, can you see me
in my shackles,
in my prison?
Can you see me from your
celestial perch?
From up there,
do I shimmer?
Do I shine?
Brisk and fresh, the sun arises, Paints the trail with light, Winding up the mountain slant— A hiking man’s delight. My son and I, we...
A tickle in the inner ear. A slightly scratchy throat. An ever-ready stench of fear Has dug a deeper moat. A smile gone, day covers...
The outer shell smiles. Drawing people in. Giving warm hugs and friendly handshakes. Look deep and behold the man within. His true...
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