Oh, beauty of the day. Motherfucker.
This day was nice.
Beautiful clear sky with just a few clouds, sunny, and snow. Soft, white snow. Soft snow. Frozen peace. Frozen love.
But it didn't feel so.
The sun makes me wonder when the cold will be done with for this winter. It feels longer.
I'm tired. I want to run and lay down next to a tree. And open my eyes and name clouds from their shapes. And in my night skies, I want to count stars. Photograph them at night. And maybe, just maybe, share this with somebody. All this without getting frostbite.
There really isn't poetry in simply stating what you feel. The only thing that's there is honesty and hope: Hope that they will be open to what you feel. Hope that they will share what's in their minds too.
Ah, Starbucks.
Their white cups with the Starbucks logo and cardboard sleeves. And her lips drinking from it.
I'm thirsty.
I'm not rich. I'm not necessarily... average either. I can't give you gold, nor rubies, nor diamonds. I can only give you my heart, and see what you do with it.
Treasure it