I write tens of thousands of words in my pictorial mindscape daily

There are times I feel like a foreign stowaway- in my own life

Holding a limited understanding or of being lost in a bizarre country

As if I’d fallen off a makeshift tourist ship, then found floating by some passerby

Like a storm-swept branch caught up in a rogue wave that lost all its energy

Leaving me to find that my disconnects vary with subjects or context

My only certainty is they’re centered around the emotion of love

To and for others that may no longer visit my daily realm outside memories

I believe you can still love shadows of another that still hold significant values

Albeit from long ago or simply a week old but ever fresh in one’s heart

A little girl kissed a little boy once and hope was forever aflame in his thoughts

That…