Old winter ivy holds on to crumbling walls —another kind of love.
Almost Haiku: Eighty-Five
Author: Vincent Mars
I write as a way of life: stories, blogs, articles, almost-poems. I'm a freelancer, a vegetarian, and I listen to Leonard Cohen and enjoy French films. We are dying a little more with each new day we live, so shouldn't we make the most of our time?
Almost Haiku: Eight-Four
Chirping of spring drawing the ears to the window.
Almost Haiku: Eighty-Three
Dark grays clinging to the earth and sky— winter’s morose ways.
boy with a hat 