Daydreams & Dandelions

Rising, golden through the trees: the moon. A bride revealing herself slowly, shy, peeking. We stand and we stare. Like children, we are moonstruck, never having seen something so magical before.Remember that,people still cry, fight, die, shun, include, live, breathe, exclude. All these same old ba

Maia found out how to type a story into a word processor today. This is the story she then wrote: The cat who is missing a tail.

I am not in this picture.That girl is not me.I've met her, but she never likes me, atfirst.  Sometimes, I grow on her.Sometimes, not.  I am probably still at home,obligated. Eternally third place.I still look for signs that you miss me.Find none.   Why did I never notice, before?

It sneaks up on youthe tiniest of momentsthe smallest of acts.and there. again. a broken heart.the summer heat, the green shade,the cool splash of water against your skinbut all this and nothing elseall this is loss, again.it's been an entire year of cruellest Aprils,falling hard into beauty but fin