The Riddle of the Sphinx
Four feet in the morning, three feet in the evening
A pink, quivering mass curled into a ball
Mewling quietly, forlornly
Tender hands offer comfort
Wobbly steps and falls
Why walk when you can run?
Classes, careers, connections
Family and friends
Surrounded by love
Wrapped in warmth
Gently lulled to sleep
About the Creator
Catsidhe
Pronounced Cat-she: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat-s%C3%ACth
What can I say about myself?
A mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a walking coffin
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Confessions of an Empath
The birds are chirping, and the sun is shining in a cloudless July sky. The vibrancy promises a beautiful day, but the cooing of the Mourning Dove perched on the powerlines seems to be more fitting than the lively songs of the robin flitting through the trees. The melancholic calls of the dove cloak the world in a sadness that hangs like tattered drapes.
By Alyssa Nicolea day ago in Confessions
Comments (1)
Let it be so for the life well lived.