She is a lark
ripping the bark
as she takes off.
A missed sight
into the night.
Mother weeps for her.
The lost child
gone in the wind.
She is a lark
ripping the bark
as she takes off.
A missed sight
into the night.
Mother weeps for her.
The lost child
gone in the wind.
I'm so cold
yet I'm never as bold
as to ask
for your warm hand.
I yearn for heat
and yet can't beat
that one task;
too salient to land
on an action.
Intuition works off our biases. By that, I mean our brain takes visual clues from the environment to conclude what is going on. Most of intuition must be subconscious, too.
It was that class—
Physical education—
where I experienced it
for the first time.
The opposing team,
all boys,
were cheering me
to go to the basket.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.