In this garden I walk; where the birds sing, fragrant flowers blossom and gargantuan trees dance in perfect synchrony. And butterflies added to the symphony. The birds were crows and I hate crows that sing; Floral fragrances are suffocating. I then realise, to feel butterflies in my stomach, I don’t have to swallow them.
I am a fickle soul; I have altered destinations, steered courses of futile voyages and wandered into places unwelcome. I saw people with arms wide open, pushed away as the scars deepened; discovering I was just another human. People changed faces, faces changed places and I lost myself in a quest to fill the voids….