The future of many are the nights of few. There is writing in rhyme that soothes.me out.
Feasting on the words I take in. Feast7Fear
Time to speak to pull “inside”. What happens there you cannot hide. So rhyme, if you must but take in the sights – the smells – the sounds – the lights of night. In time there have been more than me. There are only 3 in 12s and these.
Don’t wish there are none. Silent dish, and then they’re done.