It is winter break now and we are together, listening to nine people play nine different instruments in nine different rooms, all singing one song. 

A tall oak tree shifting in the sunlight of a distant memory.

Sickened smog trembles on the horizon, smelling of brimstone, same as always. They sip and wait, slowly, slowly sip and wait.

Just like the threatening weather, losing a customer was nothing in comparison to all else the people of Derry had lost.

The war will turn course and spring will persist
If through the cruel cold, we care for the trees.

She clutched the cross on her breast, praying to God that when she met her husband he would be kind and handsome.

I’m sorry for wanting,
that all I do is want
and want
and want.

I’ll listen and talk and learn between them, and maybe, just maybe, everything works out. 

Indigo glossed streams cascade down a mountainside

oh how i used to sing my praises to those mornings. to lie and say i still do would be committing a sin. 

No matter where I am or who I’m surrounded by, I can always find solace in myself, as I embrace myself dearly.

And after everything, my past will never change. And I will continue to be the person I am.