Elly Grey

  My tree is in bloom,  Flowers anew.  My skies are for you...

  We all have stories.  We all have been to war.  We all protect our peace.

 A box full of conditions. Who said unconditional love exists? A lie.

A dull pain.  Words unsaid.  Never heard.  A thud. A hushed voice. Misunderstood.  A broken ache.  

 In drops of water In the light of the moon  In the flight of the bird  I look for you. 

 Moon crescents, the sound of rain, the smell of jasmine flower, the glow of lamps, the hum of conversations in restaurants, the flatness of water in a bay, saltwater on my skin.

A bookstore is Book-Heaven.  A bookshelf is a companion. And a book in your hand is an escape.  

If I wished on every single one, I'd eventually run out of dandelions. If I'm out of dandelions, I can't wish anymore but...it's a good thing then there's ladybirds, shooting stars, 11.11s, eyelashes and cattails to wish on... for you. 

The sweet irony is when you can't give something a name, it's everything. 

  The poetic pull of the ocean. Watch it for a while and a calm comes over you. Add to that a story-telling sky and you've got a symphony happening.

  Me. I am my calm.  

  I am here. It's a perfect day.   I wish you were here next to me. I want to show you all this and more, with this warm sun and slight cool breeze.  I want you to feel it all like I do.  I want you right here next to me. 

Resolutions, intentions... Whatever you call them...shhh... Just for now, shhhh. Don't stress. Don't worry. Not today. Yeah, the weight will shift and you'll get healthier and probably join the gym and whatever but for today, just take it in... Everything will happen... eventually, just not today.  1 January '26.