Writing

Million ways to think:

What’s left of our dreams, when we have nothing left to say, only the memories of our youth.

_Glory Days

I appear on the horizon like a white piece of dust, floating like a boat on a Sunday afternoon. I Am the illusion of my mind as I close my eyes to disappear into the light blue sky. I open my eyes calmly, realizing wisdom ‘says’ me nothing…

_Sunday Afternoon