ramblings on knitting, mothering, learning, writing, and rural living.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Out of reach
I'm searching for something.
It turns from me like these flowers and dissapears into the light as if to tease.
A voice inside says, "don't give up", so I don't.
The flower shows it's yellow middle to someone else and I am jealous.
I fight with the spider at the bottom.
Or run from it.
But I leave the flower in the dust so I turn back.
And start over.
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