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Writing is like breathing

The angels whisper, never stop trying, never give up, always ask for more..

Here is where I spread my wings and fly...

Come, take my hand
close your eyes and dream
fly with me
to shores of beaches
our toes in the sand

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Look, is that a Bird or a Plane?

Between sea nymphs and mountain lions
covering vast open spaces
strange things fall unexpectedly
across continents
from skies of urban decay
spiders rain in Argentina
Columbia saw blood
while a small town in Louisiana
was gifted
with clumps of worms in mud

I think the sky is falling…