Writing

Sun in My Face Warmth from sky above Touches me where I am parked. A delightful rush Delivers a start. For memories pour ..

With the onset of darknessThe wind drifted through my window with immense calmness ,Timidly began a wispher ,And headed me outside by a w..

The season of depression seems to be lifting, and I feel at peace.

The Reverend Barney Pickle isn;t up to the strains involved in sharing his bed with a female.

This is a poem of love and blues.

Some days rain makes way between those seasons we got too accustomed with, be it their heat or cold, catching us off guard.

When the truth has claws They will crawl and climb They will put a scratch On the face of the evil

Tags sunshine