Weaving sunshine with showers, grey sky and blue, melancholy and joy, the month marches on. Worries that come to nothing leave a slimy trail across my mind. Dragging a past laden with spikes opens old scars my delicate skin has not yet healed. Time moves on, seasons change.
This too will pass.
"Today is the tomorrow we worried about yesterday." - Author Unknown
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all writing copyright - My Name is ZING - 2009
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