Posts
Words have dropped from my mind onto the paper.
Sometimes faster than they could be written.
As time wore on they were less frequent
The observation became more private -
Life over took the pen.
Then the thought of pictures telling stories...
Again, I was passionate
Once more All must be shown.
Yet now, I ask myself is this futile?
All the words lost - photographs stolen!
I am left wondering
Why have I done this.
Did I write all those words for myself?
Did I save those moments in time for no one?
The bee on the thistle
The geese on the pond
I'll never know
No comments:
Post a Comment