Escaping the theatre
Every feeling is validated
In an era that hails metaphors, are we using the right words?
Somedays I want to be a seagull and soar high and free in the naked blue sky Other days I want to be a blossom tree, decorated in pretty white And for the few others, I wish I was a bewitching pink wild rose At the hands of an old school romantic. Whatever I can…
You loved to call yourself a nomad You had been to places whose existence I could only dream of You taught me the names of drinks,I still can’t pronounce You spoke about green meadows, music shows Autumn trees, and wild bees You spoke about adventures of tigers chasing you And times you tried to chase…