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Swaying

I’m resting, but also creating. Stories, stories that flip around. As if I’m flipping to my back. But in my hammock. I am only able to sway and sway… The ideas sway with me. Dreamy, yet startling ideas. My eyes are still closed. I’m still resting and creating. I knew I’ll never fall. In my hammock, nothing ever happens.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Book: Shattered Sighs