It is truly a lost art…just writing.
Using actual script to pen ideas; giving a permanent form to ideas that currently reside only in my mind.
I found a true letter writer on here once before, would be incredible to find him again.
Sometimes I walk around Rideau looking around at the many people going about their day. I look at them and smile if they notice me looking but it almost seems like it became a game of who can look away first. I wish I could go back to when people talked to me. Where my smile enticed a small little hello. Maybe… Maybe i’ll be better one day…
If anyone could see me. See me as another person, struggling with the world. That… Would feel very nice. But people are scared… And so am I…
Let the raindrops drop
Let the birds seek shelter
Put on your wellies
And splash in the puddles
Ahhh. I smell worms
On the sidewalks
Here on rosedale heights Dr.
And MacLennan av.
Now bring on the essence
Bring on the passion
Bring on sincerity
In its truest form of love
Flattery is a fumble recovery
Impersonation is deceitful
Fishing without a hook
Is stuck on stupid
Walking up the hill backwards
Running down the same hill
Ahhh. Rain rain rain rain
No exit in sight
Sitting still at the yellow light
It’s a downpour
I’m smiling cause
She kissed me goodnight.
He mows the lawn methodically, periodically
Each blade of grass manicured like all the others
Except for one large patch which he weeds and cleans by hand
Visitors comment on how pretty the lawn is
But all ask, “why do you not cut that patch over there?”
His answer is always the same
“Never, that’s where the wildflowers grow”.
Full of praise and grace to the universe, how well we both connect and converse.
As a new day dawns, the sun shines bright, emitting his light.
Then come night, the moon, she guides, watching, protecting, shedding light on his darkest night.
shedding light on his darkest night
then comes night
emitting his light
the sun shines bright
as a new day dawns
how well we both connect and converse
full of praise and grace to the universe