She was right-
And she typically wasn’t about many things back...
Static in the marrow of the hive
Thousand tongues all fighting to survive...
Want to keep silent,
just to live, but seeing faults...
The sun begins to bow
As the candlelight vigil begins...
somewhere deep under
there’s a poet in me...
Days are the time lines that sew the fates of...
As the sun sets on the edge of this painted...
Lovely plants,
Little forms...
How truly foolish must I be
To struggle so efficiently...