there is a moment when
painting
sculpting
writing—
when one's eyes forget the hands
How they just happen to form each
word, figure, curve, idea
with
clay
paint
ink
mere matter.
for a moment nothing
matters
no mess nor mistake
only expression.
that moment when the eyes forget the hands
the mind forgets its fears
and is left with nothing but
Sensual, Romantic, Heartbreaking
Vulnerability.
YOU ARE READING
Letters to the Old Soul
PoetryThis book was written for the girl with an old soul. my journal full of memories and stories; These poems are honest and true of the wonders and scary things that occur in life as one grows older. These are the documents that illustrate the evolutio...
