Thursday, January 21

Tag: tim


Poetry, Post-a-Day
tangled thoughts dance chaotically through my head with remembrances of boating and biking and car rides and building an entire cosmos on the floor blocks and legos and lincoln logs becoming creation for cars and wooden people. when did we become the wooden people? maybe it was when we stopped playing. For Tim. Maybe:  for National Poetry Month and the Writing Prompt of Poetic Asides (maybe) and NaPoWriMo.