You were always an artist.
From the music that flowed when you spoke to me,
To the dreams of a future you painted
On the canvas that was my life.
Now, all I hear is a melancholy – your voice
Playing in my mind.
Sleep is today, but a distant dream.
Scribbles #7
Inkings of the Soul 
Live your dreams now, they become the present and past
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I wonder if it’s based on real life. xx
Effortlessly created as always.
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Fortunately or unfortunately, yes. Fatigue is a friend. Sleep however seems to evade me. 🙂
Thank you, love. x
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A writer’s affliction, when sleep eludes you. I get it, love. Take care. Sending you hugs.
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