it's friday, the work week is over. the sun is setting resignedly over the hills. this past week I have carried the wind on my back (it was heavy) and perhaps remembered how to smile. dreams and plans for futures loom and withdraw, like the ocean tides, and I am left standing on the shore.
1 comment:
well, you don't want to get washed away. But certainly keep an eye on the driftwood.
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