Looking through old poems and writing I am struck by how much the sense of longing pervades them. A sense of yearning. Yet, when I think about it, look at the dates, I realise that many of these pieces were written when I was settled, when I would have said, at the time, that I was happy.
It makes me wonder how much my expectations for myself in real terms were out of kilter with my innermost needs. For there is a hunger in those pages for something intangible and quite out of reach.
We can all have that nebulous dream, that star beyond our grasp… whether it is the round the world trip we know we will probably never be able to take or the Ferrari (well, Morgan in my case) we will almost certainly not be able to afford. There is nothing wrong with dreaming the impossible or…
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You’re very welcoome, Sue! @v@ ❤
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Thank you for the reblog 🙂
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