winter journal
I didn't categorize this as poetry because it's too long, and if it was a poem I would try to have some sort of understandable progression of thought instead of popping along from one thing to another. In short, I don't really know what this is :) Today the sun warms the chilled February birdsong, yesterday the fog drifted sleepily I'm having trouble keeping up with this steady passing of time life continually slipping on past the days a blurring of the calendar, trying for more sleep, more food, to remember my weakness but it would be much handier to be invincible, to have enough time to plan and dream and learn the nights are too short but my dreams are flashbacks moments and faces I've treasured and sometimes forgotten it's a strange place to be. Oh Love, that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee Odd, bumping into that loneliness whenever I turn but I have so so many to love so many to cry for and this ...