Discolored bit's of sky, daintily drifting above. The wind whispers its story onto the faces of passer byers. Hallow trees's house lonely birds and forgotten bits of dirt and leaves. Roads with broken bits of pavement and loose gravel welcome the marks of a place well traveled. Moments spent dancing in the rain; their wonderful wet drops coating your skin. Laughter bubbling up from between your lips, and there are things that have never been said before that should always be left unsaid.
April 5, 2010