A Canoe Ride On Lake Simcoe.
With Unexpected Results.

My body and me.

He seemed not at his wits’ end ….

I think I believe a little less in love, as if it were God itself, imaginary, fictional, and yes only pretend. Dead Love… not the lover but the idea, the concept I believe died so long ago, if it were ever really there to begin with at all.

When your emotions swirl and surge beyond your capacity to handle pain. .

Head Haiku.

Just my writings give some feedback?

Limerick.

The following two poems were quickly composed while sitting on a park bench on a pleasant summer morning.

Precious moments done out of love is a divine thing.