they who proselytize the clock, they who bow down for the greatness of piano practice and niggle over every cookie --
simply cast out, refreshingly replaced by hidden journals, little secrets, kid rules stashed in the boards
As this proselytizer of time, i welcome all of that
but i still sneak in to write reminders on the four parts of the roof,
round and round in four lines, read in no particular order...
I am the powerful, wonderful me
beauty in all I see
I will be what I want to be
and I shall know indeed
I am the powerful wonderful me
1 comment:
Beautiful work. Everyone needs a hideout. Is yours the treehouse, or the poetry?
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