There are no words left for today.
It had its words, and used them all.
Only husks and shells remain,
their meaning sucked clean away.
Try again another day…
yellow
260.
Almost there…
213.
Fields of gold…
207.
We are always reaching for something.
198.
We are always reaching for something.
197.
The flowers spread across the landscape like warm light, and disappear almost as quickly…
196.
Holding on for better days…
Timothy Moss 