Words Melt…

The routine broken

The minutes now…


The days ahead


Like an artist’s canvas

The hours melt

Like summer butter

As I linger with apprehension

Waiting for the imagination

To engage

To whisper a story


Screaming to be heard

To write…scribble

Claw at the clay

Of silence

Release the voice

For Now…

There is only day and night

Those flashes of Moments

Thatcher Doran

About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
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