• wildwoodflowersdance 6w

    Another dream poem I wrote about dreaming of holding my future baby

    Read More

    You’re just a reach away

    And we cling to motel rooms with red walls that glow straight out of a student noir film.

    We’re sashaying around with a fair headed baby in my arms.

    Life is split between the road and the finality of a family.

    Strange place to wistfully regret waking up. Cleaner sheets, whiter walls, no soft head against my breast.