Hello from the future

It’s two hundred thousand years later And I think about you Where you roamed, what you saw, what you felt How you lived. I look at my hands, and notice that they’re so pristine. Yours must have been bruised, and maybe the lines that run across your palms were darker. Hello from the future. We’re

Not a busy woman

I can’t live a fast paced life. I don’t enjoy it– to do things routinely because it needs to be done, and that too in an expedited manner. Granted I prefer to do things, otherwise boredom would kill, but I’d do it slower, with breaks. Where I can smell the flowers once in a while,