Perhaps art is just
the child of the Universe
drawing with crayons;
dance, her innocent
skipping to the beat of the
Universe’s heart;
music, her humming
in the darkness until sleep
crawls in beside her;
poetry, just her
crayons accidentally
forming random words.
#151
Linda Studley 
A stunningly beautiful poem that speaks to me so clearly.
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Thank you. That is the ultimate compliment for any writer.
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Big LIKE to this. Life, art and the fridge door. I like the way your mind works.
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My mind turns out its best stuff when it’s playing, not working LOL 🙂
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