Burning wood

Quiet nights And the midnight stray dogs that bark The scent of burning wood Clay pots and runny rice On a stove made of fine earth I’m wearing my favorite cotton dress And peeking out the open window railings While the cool breeze touches my face Unlocking my heart There’s the lingering scent from grandma’s

Just trying to live

You’re a handsome, educated man. You can find another chick easily. It’ll be harder for me; being this shy. And just as finicky. I’ll be better off caretaking for animals out there in the boonies. Better off watching the streets under the hot afternoon sun on a boring, dull day. Or taking a walk along