Tai Ryens > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

Squabbling among the joyous excrement of yesterday . . .

How improbable . . .

Woe, how I miss the dear stranger that brightened darkened car rides.

I long for the cradle of sea . . .

A descending feather, a whisper in the chaos of a canyon . . .

Join me?

I weep to the rhythm of pebbles dripping into the pond.

I was mesmerized by the pattern of your eyes.

Then, and only then, will you know how I suffered.