(This is not my writing)
As I would casually in to the field of golden ember wheat and glazed soy, I notice a small note in the back of my pocket. Only to presume I had a pleasant reminder from a friend, the filed piece reads "Never to Omit," and without looking the visuals of the evening ran back to me like an opulent wild fire hanging in the oxygen of it's own warmth. I wondered if this was in reference to the discussion Abigail and I had in regards to information and data, or the consensual occasion of acquisition among two parties.
We had always grown so fond of learning together, Abigail was always an attentive listener and her knack for mnemonically derived sound kept her an inch ahead of the major populations. I hoped she could write me another note, I would miss her as she excitably strolled on to the plane departing for Iceland that evening.
There are so many distances to learn when abroad, the eyes have so much fun dancing from one landscape and scenery to the next. Fanciful even are the argumentation against local fare. Abigail had invited me to play along, but my work had kept me up and satisfied with new pieces to work on.
As it were, the whole programming ascension gave me another fleeting argument against humanity. But I can't help in love! There are innumerate reasons to clutch even the fine grasp in care giving, like that of my ailing cousins.
I feel so attached at times to this descendant way of life. I miss my young mother so dearly it aches my insides and keeps me launching out of bed to find her remnants. I swear she had prayed enough for 5 lifetimes and my hope is that she left most of it up to the stars. But she fails to count her own dust, leaving part of me to be energetic and capable of giving back as much. One must wake in the morning to free laughter and easy prose.
We had always grown so fond of learning together, Abigail was always an attentive listener and her knack for mnemonically derived sound kept her an inch ahead of the major populations. I hoped she could write me another note, I would miss her as she excitably strolled on to the plane departing for Iceland that evening.
There are so many distances to learn when abroad, the eyes have so much fun dancing from one landscape and scenery to the next. Fanciful even are the argumentation against local fare. Abigail had invited me to play along, but my work had kept me up and satisfied with new pieces to work on.
As it were, the whole programming ascension gave me another fleeting argument against humanity. But I can't help in love! There are innumerate reasons to clutch even the fine grasp in care giving, like that of my ailing cousins.
I feel so attached at times to this descendant way of life. I miss my young mother so dearly it aches my insides and keeps me launching out of bed to find her remnants. I swear she had prayed enough for 5 lifetimes and my hope is that she left most of it up to the stars. But she fails to count her own dust, leaving part of me to be energetic and capable of giving back as much. One must wake in the morning to free laughter and easy prose.
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