Just For Me

Just For MeHow is it that my eyes close and open without me

That I do not die in the in-between

Mayhaps I do when I forget to see

If I can’t see life then it must cease

I must be blind to the air I breathe

A sign that there’s a brighter green

That’s born from gray and aubergine

A cure for the dead: the sun rose just for me

 

Panacea

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Ponderings of a Probation Officer

The tales of juvenile probation are sometimes splendid and sometimes melancholy. This is where I have decided to dump/cope with my reflections.

T. Shaw

She writes what she speaks.

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