Poetry "just friends" We forget the ones who were always there because we think they'll stay with us, always.
Poetry melancholy I’d tell you, then: That solidity of feeling; the ache in your very skull that’s just what it means to love.
Poetry Upturned A Persian Cyclamen with a flower facing the sky caused me to stop, take a picture, and sit aside.
Poetry The Poetic Beauty of Winter She holds our souls in the grip of her meditative powers. Through the inaudible sounds of winters' quietude.
