log entries of timotheus

Posted by mobile phone:
Wind whisps his black shroud,
Slowly walking towards your doom.
Alone in the crowd.

Soft sound of A/C,
clock ticking in the corner.
A new book opened.

Sunshine on the rocks,
heat shimmers from them intensely.
Wind feels like a gift.

Old homes creak and groan.
Overextend a body,
the same thing occurs.

Motivation comes,
rising from an unseen source.
Creating begins anew.