Thoughts dance in and out as shadows quiver behind a shade.
An open window draws forth stale air.
I am alone, at a desk wiped clean of trinkets, where platitudes become profound: every day is a new day.
Originally published: Aug 2004
Thoughts dance in and out as shadows quiver behind a shade.
An open window draws forth stale air.
I am alone, at a desk wiped clean of trinkets, where platitudes become profound: every day is a new day.