As brown turns to green
Cows chew the cud
By white pipe fences
I could be in any of many familiar places
Low slung cacti
Give the only indication
Of my true location
As brown turns to green
Cows chew the cud
By white pipe fences
I could be in any of many familiar places
Low slung cacti
Give the only indication
Of my true location
Take a chance and see where it takes you! 💛
Pen to paper.
reconstruction + emotional health
OUT OF STANDARD BOOKS
I'm Victoria Stuart, a poet committed to love's transmission.
Blurring the lines between poetry and prose
The journey of a thousand miles, begins with a single step...x
A Life's Worth of Observations from a Songwriter and Sound Engineer
Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.
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