That grows in murky waters. Blue lotus without roots, but not uprooted, wandering. I am that but I am this too. And yet I am not always blue. I must just be bogus.
Saturday, 11 August 2012
Breathe
Fingers crave Arms ache Wanting To hold To touch To reach out And melt into you.
While your house breathes louder And I hold my breathe At the sight of you!
Loves Music. Loves dance. Loves the moon. Loves the Spirit. Loves love and food and roundness. Loves struggle. Loves the Folk. Loves herself. Regardless.-Alice Walker
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