..and it is a bright burning harvest moon hanging low in the sky, just out of reach but teasing me with how close it seems.
My well of stories has become dry. I am not old enough for this to happen.
I have had a life, but in this well of words, it has evaporated. I haven't even written it yet.
I hope it rains again, I would like to have my stories back.. if only for a minute.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
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