This funk I feel will heal somehow.
The textures of my mind are strange,
But they will change and even now
I feel those textures rearrange.

I’d rather think the world’s sublime
Than whine about each little thing.
I’d rather waste my time with rhyme
Than worry that I cannot sing.

Photo: “Three Textures Somme Woods” linked to K’lee and Dale’s Cosmic Photo Challenge and trablogger’s Mundane Monday.

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