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Penning of the 8th Month

Penning of the 8th Month

The 8th Month   lifting myself up repeatedly  deadweight took over me lost in days. nothing to aspire towards  an eternal cycle and ample grey skies lost in uncertainty. a barrier of contact made illness even time was drunk and we were stuck  lost in obstacles....
Windows to the Soul

Windows to the Soul

Windows to the Soul As hugs turn into virtual high-fives And pajamas become our cocoons, As sanitizer turns into a balm for our weary nerves And TP becomes our most prized possession,   We lumber out of hibernation every morning With nowhere to go but the couch....
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