Someone found this blog yesterday by searching "self-indulgent sadness!" That has me laughing, but I'm not quite done yet.
The wind blows a leaf into my hand
A curled and dry speck in my palm
Skeleton veins fanned in rays
Too fragile to grasp, too light to tip the balance
One of unseen, unnoticed billions
Known only because it happened in my hand to rest
Another gust and it is gone
And I will not hold Angie's hand again.
Can any other sport do this?
1 day ago