Thursday, 8 March 2018


Ai am writing with meter, though wanting of time. Maybe, also, this paragraph ends up with rhyme. You see, even if aI am about to be free, I have very much faith in the trunk of the tree.

Maybe that is what makes buds reluctant to spring. Maybe they to the tree by astonishment cling. And the root it is not, the bud, longing for air. Ai'll say, bud is a buddy, to origin fair.