William, I always love reading your words. While I know that you have one thought in your mind as you write them, you are always open to our interpretetion...thank you for this.
I've read "Tired", over and over this morning. I love these few words. The same picture keeps forming in my mind as I read them...a tired woman, in an old washdress, passed her prime, up at dawn everyday. She is getting ready to start breakfast and as she looks into the frying pan, her image looks back at her tired and careworn, as she sighs and starts her day...
No sorry sighs, Jan, I think your impression is beautiful. And upon later readings, I too find more, and sometimes less, than I originally intended, if indeed I intended much at all. So many different dawns, different faces, different frying pans. Sometimes I think only the sky can tell.
17 comments:
strong...liken
Thank you, Laura. I love your beautiful tree and I.
William, ein schönes kleines Gedicht,
ja, auch die Baumfotos der lieben Laura mag ich sehr, es sind gute Fotos...
Grüße Jasmin
:-) thank you
Thank you, Jasmin. Yes, I think Laura’s photos are almost paintings. Or maybe they are paintings....
Love it!!
It could stay for Athens...
Ah, very interesting.... Thank you, Monika!
William, I always love reading your words. While I know that you have one thought in your mind as you write them, you are always open to our interpretetion...thank you for this.
I've read "Tired", over and over this morning. I love these few words. The same picture keeps forming in my mind as I read them...a tired woman, in an old washdress, passed her prime, up at dawn everyday. She is getting ready to start breakfast and as she looks into the frying pan, her image looks back at her tired and careworn, as she sighs and starts her day...
I think I'm that woman today. My spelling is terrible!!! Sorry...sigh :D
for me, could be titled yesterday
three lines and yet you surprised me with that last.
xo
erin
No sorry sighs, Jan, I think your impression is beautiful. And upon later readings, I too find more, and sometimes less, than I originally intended, if indeed I intended much at all. So many different dawns, different faces, different frying pans. Sometimes I think only the sky can tell.
Did I, Erin? Good.
...this is your brain on drugs...
Cassie, you never let me down. You remind me of yourself when I was my age.
Appreciate the image…
Thanks, Anthony.
and the image frightens
in the face of all those eggs
hatching into spring
even salt and peppered
they seems alive
so for now
she prefers to come late
to breakfast
And so goes the beautiful, heart-rending soliloquy of Omelet.
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