our wordsWe're sitting side by side. We're at a table with four others, someone is speaking up on stage, yet he's the only one I can hear in my head. His image is the only one I go to when I need an escape from the speaker. He's writing, he's making art..he knows I love his art..our words
I reach my hand over, a pen sliding between my two plump fingers. I start to harden my grip, as ink starts to flow from the pen, onto a thin lined piece of paper..
Dear Kevin,
I love you, so very much.
Love, Your wife Lydia
I slowly push my the notebook, with the thin lined paper with ink statined ma
Hope you enjoy it hiere (=
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A picture is a poem without words...
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