Tighter than the bark on creativity’s tree.
Oh, woe-some, creativity!
I would assume…
the same can be said, for tranquility.
The worse of times.
The best of times.
All windows looking out…from my mind.
And, for myself, along with the same of similar skin…
No access to an outside door.
Black and white.
Pen upon paper.
Ambiguity sets in.
Alas, these are the moments I should cherish most.
Being in the house, as a ghost, with no need for a host.
I am certain of no uniqueness in this endeavor.
Just as certain that I am of…
Magic found in poems, prose and love letters.