…or whatever else you choose to call them – bits and bobs…odds and ends…stuff.
Just random thoughts that gather as words, somewhere between the heart and the head.
At times wispy, wistful… Like mist in a valley, just before day break. So tender that they scurry away at the sound of the first silver ray approaching the sky…
Thick, grey and menacing at others, like angry rainclouds. Only a deluge that drowns all rational thought can calm one down.
Sometimes. Just. Words.
Words without agenda. Take it or leave it.
Here’s something to start with:
at the loud colours
on tiny bare feet…
by stars that danced
on dark serene depths
across cold steel bars…
Only to be found
by strange, gentle hands
that led him back
to where he started…
…as he continued to sleep.