A Mirror

Thin threads of hair fell to dirt like autumn leaves. Grayed disappearing under the harsh sunlight what I had left connected to my aging head. Wrinkled in a disagreement my forehead fore tells the age of its bearer more than the silver mane. Ignored at first, but let in eventually a slight smile comes up. Heart warmed by the gratefulness for life, for the strength of body and the mind. For wisdom in maturity.

Are you Maybe Great?

You’re one of us if you wake up with wild ideas and make them real.
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