I listened to the sound of a marching band playing under the rain where an unnamed storm blew its horn and the gray clouds clashed its cymbals in a cadence so ferocious the sky welled with pride while every human
A button fell from my coat, unmade and spring air whooshed afront my face abashed about a button gone small things can’t be replaced with none A man looked at the moonless sky there’s a hole in the corner and
I have a Tiny Letter! Please subscribe if you want me to send you (love) Letters to Strangers. I write about poems and stars and why you should keep your embers close to the heart so you will remain warm and on fire. And not alone. See you?
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