The Fourth was Tuesday
Plus it’s nearly ten at night
Enough fireworks
Sigh…I’m quite ready to be done with fireworks.
poetry, prose, and photography
Abandon all that we are
So we can become
All that we might be
I see myself trapped by my past, by the barriers erected from fear, insecurity and doubt. “Grow past them…” I counsel myself. “Push past them. They are but vapor, illusion, less real than the dreams. Dreams create! So I shall focus on them.
Her heart of stone
Sedimentary rock
Made of pressure
Upon layers of
Heartache and
Pain