Volaverunt blogThe discarded oak leaves shone as autumn’s fruits in the evergreen bush. The rain pointed the way home and we followed, I, on one end of the leash, and Bobo on the other. Sometimes I led, sometimes I didn’t – but I was never the master. The morning sun was sleeping in beneath an army […]
It’s about what you do, but also what you don’t.
It’s about what you touch, what you smell, what you linger on.
I love you more than you can ever imagine…
I am an orphan when you leave for work,
Climb astride, gallop
I’ll be your steed for the night
Ride me without fear
Loneliness is not the broken violin,
it is not the worn strings
or the useless bow.