Sometimes my brain
feels overcrowded.
Like, there’s not enough space
for all my thoughts to process.
Then one word emerges
from the muck.
Spaciousness.
My busy thoughts pause-
It does exist.
Spaciousness.
Between the time you were born
and the person you’ve become.
Between the first dark cloud
of a storm and the last drop of rain.
Between each breath I take,
as I slow down to watch
clouds gracefully float past.
Piano Girl 
I really like this poem, Kelley
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Thank you, Ivor. 💛
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You’re most welcome, Kelley 💙
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terrific metaphor for the space we need to build in our crowded life —
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Thank you, John. ☺️
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