A Poetry Site by an amateur writer

I type with a reverence that I cannot comprehend. Exhaustion fuels my body. Movtivation has escaped my grasp as I walk through life with a mind made of fog. I am so tired. I need to smell the cold crisp air. Reawaken what has fallen, regain the senses that I have lost. Beautiful, wonderous sound of wind. I miss you.

If you are so kind stranger, please stay for my journey