Finding myself to be tiptoeing around these days, not sure if I shall glide or stomp.
Pray on my knees or dance.
Get everyone to listen to what I have to say or put my headphones on.
Should everyone be stopped in their tracks from what I am wearing, or make them think of me … hours later, not knowing why?
Blanc Poudre by James Heeley … writes, and speaks, flies & murmurs around, and in a hush voice it whispers, but the whole day.
So fulfilling and exact to the way I feel.