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#Silent Sunday… Meditation…
Video by Bakhtiyor Sayakulov from Pixabay This is my idea of a peaceful Sunday… pity there was no sound though…
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My Bubble… #Poetry #Fiction #MLMM.com
Image by Alexa from Pixabay I occupy the space inside a sweet bubble. Barely hearing a whisper Travelling through the parallel universe Trying to find value in all I see and hear The impact on my mind is symbolic at best. I do not have to feign interest. I feel like an initiate. Hoping my mind has become…
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Friday Flowers…
Image by Else Siegel from Pixabay So far, today has been absolute chaos… Just found time to take a deep breath and calm down, so found these unusual flowers for your enjoyment… Wishing everyone a very peaceful weekend…
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Feather of Hope… #Poetry #TheSundayWhirl #Wordle 598
Image by Christine Sponchia from Pixabay … and one of my favourite poems … Hope is the thing with feathers Emily Dickinson – 1830-1886 Hope is the thing with feathersThat perches in the soul,And sings the tune without the words,And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard;And sore must be the stormThat could abash…
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#Silent Sunday… Meditation…
Video by Bakhtiyor Sayakulov from Pixabay This is my idea of a peaceful Sunday… pity there was no sound though…
-
My Bubble… #Poetry #Fiction #MLMM.com
Image by Alexa from Pixabay I occupy the space inside a sweet bubble. Barely hearing a whisper Travelling through the parallel universe Trying to find value in all I see and hear The impact on my mind is symbolic at best. I do not have to feign interest. I feel like an initiate. Hoping my mind has become…
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Friday Flowers…
Image by Else Siegel from Pixabay So far, today has been absolute chaos… Just found time to take a deep breath and calm down, so found these unusual flowers for your enjoyment… Wishing everyone a very peaceful weekend…
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Feather of Hope… #Poetry #TheSundayWhirl #Wordle 598
Image by Christine Sponchia from Pixabay … and one of my favourite poems … Hope is the thing with feathers Emily Dickinson – 1830-1886 Hope is the thing with feathersThat perches in the soul,And sings the tune without the words,And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard;And sore must be the stormThat could abash…
Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes 