When
There is grand sun. Dare you to look her in the eye, and cold ever changing moon, pretentious as love outside of a movie theatre screen.
There is no aroma to the rain, petrichor is a lie that belongs to the earth. Wildflowers, seemingly pretty, are really weeds, reality check! You rip them out, they appear like magic rabbits in a hat.
When i'm feeling low, when the coffee is just a bitter dark draught in a mug with a silly drawing of a flower and a bird, and the apple peeled is cut across to reveal a star without a stupid night sky.
words of scripture
hold over my head a halo -
a protective tent
When © gillena cox 2022
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Welcome to Monday WRites # 360
Already today is the last Monday of AUGUST
You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea).
If you have a Monday post at your blog you can share at the linky. There is no prompt. All that's required is that your post is a Monday post
REVISIT
SHARE A MONDAY POST
