Wednesday 12 September 2012

thin


Life is moving so fast that all I can do is throw words down behind me as I run and hope they leave a trail that can be followed.   I hold my thoughts awkwardly in one arm, trying to select the right ones with the other.  The path splits and folks off til I’m spread so thin I feel like I’m playing twister with the ones I love.  No one gets more than a limb.  Those touched be a hand do better than ones about to get the boot.