Never...
© 2012
by Mica D'Orléans
...said my goodbyes to last year
and never welcomed this coming one...
since today is the last day of the beginning, it would be good to visit my roots, by which i mean, writing in streams of consciousness as i did when i first picked up a pencil. have no idea what this story will be, but so far so good, because before the image came the ramble and in its wake came a sense of logic...
across the town way beyond imagination came a poor pebble nicked here and there. the sandy surface of the unpaved road groaned an exasperated groan as the nicked pebble slumbered and dragged and heaved about, leaving in its wake the most crooked of crooked lines. true i witnessed it all from the willow tree i dangled from, being bounced whichever way the wind took pleasure in, for directions were not my forté, so with a somewhat attitude i let it be, tuning my attention to that swaggering pebble who seemed to have a knack for pissing off dirt driven roads. a tumbleweed swept along, giving the right amount of scratch to soothe the nastiest of nasties, discoursing the pebble while on its way, towards the bushy grass that was once green, and who, unable to keep up with the fiery rays that bathed this scenery, whittled and dried itself to an alarming aridity, yet finding a new meaning in its new vocation of sheltering the poor.
that's it. welcome to 2012...
...said my goodbyes to last year
and never welcomed this coming one...
since today is the last day of the beginning, it would be good to visit my roots, by which i mean, writing in streams of consciousness as i did when i first picked up a pencil. have no idea what this story will be, but so far so good, because before the image came the ramble and in its wake came a sense of logic...
across the town way beyond imagination came a poor pebble nicked here and there. the sandy surface of the unpaved road groaned an exasperated groan as the nicked pebble slumbered and dragged and heaved about, leaving in its wake the most crooked of crooked lines. true i witnessed it all from the willow tree i dangled from, being bounced whichever way the wind took pleasure in, for directions were not my forté, so with a somewhat attitude i let it be, tuning my attention to that swaggering pebble who seemed to have a knack for pissing off dirt driven roads. a tumbleweed swept along, giving the right amount of scratch to soothe the nastiest of nasties, discoursing the pebble while on its way, towards the bushy grass that was once green, and who, unable to keep up with the fiery rays that bathed this scenery, whittled and dried itself to an alarming aridity, yet finding a new meaning in its new vocation of sheltering the poor.
that's it. welcome to 2012...
