I have been away. Strolling into avenues, taking peeks of fancy, imaginary places, down into the gallows below, set in trestles of doorways not to be seen again, definitely not for awhile.
I have been away.
Did you see your self, away? As a piece of dust begins its next journey, or maybe it is the last, riding air molecules, dipping with the sound of a laugh.
My pen can not stop from drifting, out of my mind and onto a place. Any place. As long as it goes, to the space you may know, invisible to the naked eye, an interloper, no, a made up point in your sky.
