There is an answer searching for a question.
A key longing for a latch.
A solution in need of an equation.
A patch that pines for a hole in my blue jeans.
As the crow flies, we know no greater distance.
As the wave breaks, we have our senses overwhelmed.
As the sun rises, the air begins to bubble and boil.
Too much moisture is locked in the atmosphere.
Drying out a matter of sober contemplation.
Whistling songbirds give focus to our prayers—musical on so many planes.
 Post Date |  Author |  Comments | Originally Penned |
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| October 1, 2022 | frankie | July 1, 2014 |
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