[Poetry] may make us from time to time a little aware of the deeper unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
It was there
Spring, slowly comes in, one day after the other, without asking for permission, without notice. One day, sipping your coffe you cast your sight over the wall and realise it was already there, patiently waiting on the shelf of your kitchen.