the paint and the puddles
The wind it tackles
the leaves and the litter
the leaves and the litter
the leaves and the past
the sun it is drying
the paint and the puddles
the paint and the puddles
the paint and the past
I saw the bend coming
the bend was approaching
the bend in the road
that soon would be passed
I saw her look sadden
she feared I was leaving
the leaves and the litter
the paint and the past.
words and foto Tommy Carroll
re-edit
raypool
Mon 6th Jul 2015 10:13
Fine sense of movement as the general becomes the specific in terms of time, almost like the feeling of entering a new arena when it has been building up in your mind. Again, a sense of helplessness. Nature as well as being mind expanding, can also appear uncaring as I think you have it here. (bit of a mouthful, sorry)