This moonlit night,
snow glowing with
I stroll along the old paths
thinking of the mystery you
made of me.
Identity molded like play dough
leaching from the cracks of yesterday.
I can’t say anymore
who I am.
(another character perspective poem about Lydia & Dustin)
indeed – the moonlight in your post is shining like a star, simply beautiful!
ah, the Old Path! insistent, persistent, unavoidable. the only one worth walking.
Who one is changes day by day. Yet the old path is always there for us.