Sometimes it was just
the mud that called him
He knew it held meaning
but he didn't dare touch it
for it was something sacred
It was unspoken,
obviously explicable,
but without explanation
It didn't need one
It just was
So he wallowed
Here goes:
- Roy Arthur
- Santa Rosa, California, United States
- This is meant to serve primarily as a record of thought and prioritization. I write sometimes, and usually leave the words here. Of what I write, some I like, most I don't, but I feel these records may be of some use to others or my future self. Many of the photographs posted are courtesy of my wonderful friends. Thanks for taking the time to read. Also, feedback is encouraged - positive or not.
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