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1/7/2019 0 Comments Some days...Some days I want to wear grey
No matter how bright the sun Or beckoning the day Some days I want to fade away To step into the background And have nothing to say Some days I want to give in Let go of every last thing And drift into oblivion Some days... Most days I fight the lure With colour, music, light With contact, friends, kin With all those small kindnesses: The touch of a sympathetic hand, The warmth of a fire and a good book The beseeching eyes of a dog Who senses all is not well and offers Love.
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AuthorI spent most of my life not realising I was a writer. I just thought everybody's minds worked like mine. On some level I had a vague idea that the conversations with people who weren't there might just put me in the crazy category, so I kept quiet. Besides, the people in my head were usually more interesting which was never going to win me friends out there in the reality sphere. Fiction has always seemed to offer more interest than the real world and finally I realised - this is how writers think! Normal people don't have these thoughts. So, I had the imagination and the crazy thoughts. The only thing needed to turn me into a writer was to put pen to paper... Or, in my case, fingers to keypad. Here goes! Archives
January 2019
CategoriesAll Family History Family Letter Flash Fiction Ideas Little Black Dog Poem Story Tweets To Bill Work In Progress Writing |
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