quiet evening listening to the rolling thunder...
the soft rain...
curled up on the futon, tugging my sleeves over my wrists...
would that i were outside, but i can't really do stuff like that on my own...
well, when there are people around...
wish i had a friend that i could beg to go run around in the rain with me...
but i don't.
so i'll just sit here and listen...
feel the air come in through my window...
while my heart yearns to be outside...
or what there is of it.
its ashes still populate the snowglobe.
just calm...
be calm...
the blossoms on the twig in my green vase are almost open now...
the bradford pear sprig isn't reviving...
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