Andi Leigh Writes

A taste of rattling nerves, An achy winter storm. With cold blood set to boil But the simmer never comes. A gift of quaking fingertips. A curse of mirthful smile. With pleas of certainty unheard, Lay morose for quite a while.

Please mind this fragile mind, Crumbling like a sand dollar. Once riding on hopeful waves, Then abandoned on the driest shore. Beaten by the harshest rays. Aspirations rolled away with the tide, Left in the sand to dwindle away. Crumbling, just crumbling alone.