Left behind
her voice
fresh tendrils and
honey rhododendron
take root
bloom in lungs and
breathless
thoughts are
sugar splinters
It’s like squeezing blood from stone these days. I miss Jenn. I miss reading something that would blend my envy and inspiration into a peppermint sundae. What happened? We wrote, we challenged, we collaborated. But some of us left, and some of us forgot, and some of us got busy (not Carl, who remains steadfast). Are we hanging on when we should be letting go? Or when things shifted, was I not looking?
words are not
but live instead
in form in flight
in heart in depth
their sound has warped
waxed and waned
what echoes
what lingers
is sullen
is stained
Well you still show my blog as lekkerkwaikiff … and that thing was blitzed months ago …
otherwise i reckon you just lead the pack, on your own cloud.
We just tag along in your comet tail.
The ease with which you use words, and the indelible pictures you paint with them is truly dazzling Ten Miles. Reading this blended MY envy into a peppermint sundae. Magic
We’ve all kinda drifted haven’t we? The bloggiverse doesn’t seem quite as friendly and fascinating anymore. The most special person I’ve only met online, for sure.
… Dunno.
It’s hard to try and keep up or move along with things while striving to remain the same. The novelty that was blogland has worn off a little, we’re less enthuse and more… true to our real-life ways, probably. And real life, it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it…