Oh, to sit on the shore
of an island in the sky
fishing for nothing but sunshine.
To feel the cloud's kiss
as the breeze rolls him by
and the slight tug of light on the line.
Written for Monday Musings: June 2, 2014 - Image Prompt
Progress
The familiar cold of a mid-November Sunday-- Atticus dutifully sniffs the path of his predecessor as dried leaves scrape across the paveme...
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Awareness in itself is healing. ~Fritz Pearls
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The percussion of automatic gunfire rings loud a year later rippling like a stone thrown in still waters as a surviving child drops cau...
2 comments:
I love the picture this paints in my mind!
Glad you liked it Eva! :)
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