this is my first attept at writitng the way i used to in a long long while. i had something that if i knew better wouldnt call a writers block but i dont..... I have pools and pools of self-acception, these days. While walking, I don't wish the flowers to be wilder, or more weathered. I have a mellow and indistinct sense of gratification; Indistinct: as I think of the past that seeped In vague missplaced intervals. Now, it is slightly cooler. Gone is the sea breeze- that's a cool shawl on sunburned piers I have left. Replacement is a musk of easterly wind that smokes through the weave of the clothes i ought not to be wearing. It is slightly colder. The dandelions are ready to be blown Ready to offer me the time with bowing bodies, heavy heads; Ready to oblige me with a fact that it's slightly too late. but These days, I have pools and pools of self-acception.
