I write to notice my life more closely. This space holds poetry, brief reflections, and pieces shaped by place and pause — the kind of writing that comes when I slow down enough to listen. Some of it is personal, some of it is observational.I write to remember, to release, and sometimes simply to mark that I was here, paying attention. This is a personal archive. You’re welcome to linger.
The clock strikes twelve, a promise of new,
Yet shadows linger where love once grew.
The year won't mend what hearts must face,
Healing's a journey, not a race.
Old scars ache as the past takes its bow,
But strength is born in the here and now.
A new year dawns, yet truth remains:
Time heals slowly, through love’s old pains.
Comments
Post a Comment