He
Knows
on
a slate grey morning in winter
I
sat at the kitchen nook with him
listening
to the sound of rustling
paper
& the cool intonation of his
bitter
insights – I can only offer a
series
of rueful laughs
he knows that he is adored
***
Scribbled
a little something down while eating my breakfast today. It’s one of those stolen
moments where I pecked without remembering I even did it. I love the feeling of
coming out of those little creative hazes to discover a verse or a paragraph or
a story before me. Nothing like it.
In
propinquity,
Nic
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