Wednesday, March 7, 2012


There are times when I wish I were an Artist.
A Free Spirit.
A Child.

Still filled with that exuberance of possibilities.
With energy.
With color.
With curiosity.
Able to surround myself with inspiration and beauty.
Able to explore the world with fresh perspective.

My walls are beige.
And bare.

My floors are tile.
And carpet.
And littered with crumbs.
And I really ought to clean them more often.

My books are getting dusty.
Sometimes I think my mind is too.
My spirit certainly is.

But then there are those days.
The days when those two little boys hold hands.
Push the emergency call button.
Then we run again.
And the world is beautiful.

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