IfI wereto writeevery dayfor onehundred days,would my soulbe purged ofthis malaise;is it a thingto be dredged,dragged up –twistedand tiedlike tatteredbed sheetsknottedtogether;is therea remedyfor thisscourge;or is thisan inherentrestlessness,a fiery bluespark of eternalangst ignitingpassion – a callto write? (Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
Oh your photo is pretty and delicate. 😀
LikeLike
And here I thought you had been drinking. 😉 Beautiful haiku, V.J.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hahaha – oh those days are long past, Dorinda.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I hear ya! Now it’s just iced tea without Long Island in it lol
LikeLiked by 1 person