Today’s oneword.
I’d had a resolution I was going to try to do this every day, it seems to me. Harrumph.
I thinking of creating a “writing” log — someplace I can put these exercises and other writing-related material and resources, separate from here (not private, just separate). Give it some focus, and thus some importance.
We’ll see.
The snow was cold and wet and heavy, and his feet made sloshy, dirty splashes as he trudged toward his destination.
The whole thing, he thought, was a metaphor for his life. Or maybe his thinking it was a metaphor was an even better metaphor.
He got there. Eventually.
There’s a song running through my head, but I don’t know the words. There’s a poem written above my bed, but it’s too far away to read. There’s a destination on my map, but I’ve lost the map. There’s a home where the heart is, but I’m done, done, so far away gone, that I cannot remember my name.
I want to turn this into a poem…
I think you’ve very nearly done that.