Blue and white sea and sand murmur and hush round surrounded by nut-brown hair To touch your cheek to brush your hair to steal your smile and feel soft breezes salty sea breezes

Whats the point in doing something half hearted, to do something but not give your absoulute best, to write with out paper or to sing without words, give you all in everything you do

The day started as every other ordinary day. The battle between the daylight and me raged through the morning.

A start of a poem that I may add to later.

The sky is completely still, tension fills the air. Dark grey clouds loom overhead, big and monstrous. A deep rumble is heard, loud and thrilling.

where do those old wanderers go?