We tell stories.

Mind Sprocket gives voice to simple and honest perspectives. We publish thoughts and experiences on our world. We tell stories.

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I would be the snow
if it meant I could cling
to you, melt on your warm skin,
bring a flush to your cheeks,
and then disappear.

I would be beautiful
as I fell frozen from heaven,
a million miniature angels,
to land softly on your unyielding
shoulders and your hands,
your soft soft skin in wool mittens.

But I would rather fall
onto your upturned face,
your fine messy eyebrows,
closed eyes, parted lips
welcoming my kiss.

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Topics

• Pithy Tales
• Accounts & Glimpses
• Verse
• On Writing