Of Bus Stops & Last Chances.
Longing, as each day passes.
Defying logic, odds, and sanity.
Of a thousand fluttering butterflies.
Questions, the hows and whys.
Reaching across the bed, finding, wanting, craving.
In thoughts and dreams.
In sweet smiles and hollow pains.
In harsh reality and peaceful escapes.
Hold on. Hang in there.
Stay with me.
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Inner traveling 🙂
To an escape which I direly need 🙂
Wonderfully orchestrated.
Thank you very much.
You are a good poet. I find a connection to your words.
Suzanne
Never saw myself as a poet, but thank you for such kibd words.