Tiny Dwarf

I missed my Ink-splattered hands that orange chair— staring back at my consciousness I like to think, that I think in words, but went far too long without sharing them— something I cannot repair. sanity for my mind, so I stayed diligently unaware— it wasn't worth it. But now, I bathe in watercolor. Ink dripping from my brush again, and Floyd. Never cared about learning someone else's songs, only my own until now— Goodbye Blue Sky, I couldn't tell you exactly why. only eight bars, but Gilmour it is! Gentle laughter has never felt so solemn— sacred hallways, echo like the halls of Moria. I too, wore several shirts so many shirts, settling into some old ones as well. surprisingly, they fit better than they ever have remember that Grinning Demon linocut? —You were right, about Linda being right. it only took me two decades to realize it and now all I can do is smile, and cry. not tears of sadness, well, maybe a little. somehow you have helped me find myself again, I have never felt this whole— this shirt fits, for now.