From the origin of talk
We've spoken of love...
Sometimes we look far too deep
Or choosing paths that are too steep...
When looking at the puzzle
Of the jigsaw that I solved...
The thread
A poem a day, a painting in three...
My darkest days gives pain
A simple yet dying days...
I won't let time claim a win
And be the enemy...
Orson Welles,
a man...
Sometimes frustration
Is hard to ignore...
When life gives you a door that's locked
Just stand back and try to knock...
Love yourself... when it’s hard...
See the beauty in parts...
Patience, a virtue so pure and true,
A quality that can carry us through...
Seeds sewn were weeds are growing
Make easy going a need for knowing...