To lay still, as a poetic soul caught up in an ocean of reflection and contemplation. To hold still and listen to the story twirling in a melody spin at the edge of the cliff. There is a forest, yes, a forest fire building and caressing the edges of my mind Those imaginary friends…
Tag: Sleep
3 a.m. Thoughts
What would it be like if I wasn’t a writer? To not wake up in the early hours. When the stars are still out, and the moon is taking its turn to explore. Where I cannot fall back into the darkness of sleep because I have too many ideas knocking at the door of my…
The Unsigned Writer 