Scribbles

I want to scribble again after a period of dryness for words. Now that my daughter is eight months old, I can hear the call of ideas shouting inside my head again. Although I have not put my way of expressing a thought into practice, I’m willing to give it another shot. With a bit of luck, I wish to be enthused once more.

Monday, December 08, 2003

Undated, this was written by a friend. In the fullness of time, she has been building her fortress of love, just for two. Though he never knew, he was her source. Over imaginings, she has picked out a perfect come true despite the fact that he never knew it.

A poem She wrote:

I am lost
In the mist of
love
friendship
depression

I am drowning
In the sea of
trust
hope
repression

While I was lost
There was light
While I was drowning
There was life

Guiding
Pulling
Helping
Believing
Trusting

Without question
Without hesitation

Thank you.

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