Doody Richards

Poetry

I could breathe this bitterly cold night, shivering beneath your shooting star.

I could hold the moon from the sun, the blue sky from the pouring rain.

I could paint the night to be the day of light, and wash our fading age away.

For the silver heart of yours was young and mine,

For the golden skin of yours blessed me with warmth,

For the vigorous arms of yours wrapped me unharmed,

Only if you asked me.

When I visited Bali in January 2013, I wouldn’t have thought that my life had leapt out from a broken heart man to an elevated, enlightened one. At the time, Bali just healed from the wound of religiously motivated violent extremism. Tourism regrew its roots, and sprouts of hopes emerged…

Doody Richards

A newly converted Novocastrian & a storyteller. I story-tell travel, minimalism, mindfulness & anything in between. talesoftraveler.com

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