I sit here, alone, with nothing but words in my head, words whispered through wind’s everlasting song, words written in the clouds of dreams to come. I am home, under the baby blue sky with swirls of white and purple, on the porch of a little shack, where my words gush out in torrents to flood its tiny rooms, and winding down an invisible river to you.
Welcome to my home, where words fly and fingers dance on the keyboard’s spacious dance floor. Where thoughts sing and notes soar into the literary sky of paper and ink. -“Home”, 25/11/’15