About Poor Imp
Life--became stop-start fragments; survival, still--too staggering ; stopped. Heart beat moments and no memory. Barefeet on pavement without the breath to know it's evening.
Then, because I remembered I could love, start-stop rattled-battled back again; thriving, jiving; heartaches and cracks better than a chest that lacks.
Being. Tolkien. Languages. Still Autumns; dashing derring-do Springs into Summer. Impishness. Fencing. Chess. Narrative. Lyrics. Football--er, not the sort with the oblong ball.
Tutor and Editor