Spring celebrates itself each April,
And each April,
I amble through this spectacle of new life in awe of it’s daring.
A cool wind blows the delicate pink blossoms from the trees.
It carries on the breeze,
And skips down the road.
From the bridge it rains down into the river,
And dances atop the surface of a new world.
The gentle chaos of spring seeps into my skin
And I could weep at my own strength in this moment.
– Essie Parker Walsh
Tag: Autism
The Reality Of Me.
I ache to be lost in the serenity
Of late summer.
When everything is coming to rest,
But that one final bloom
Upon the peaks of Derbyshire.
A moment in time
As fleeting as the hope I have
That today will be the day
I meet you on the hill.
And of corse,
Before I dry my hair,
The reality of me
Fractures my mind.
The smile on my face
Cracks
Then breaks
From the weight of unattainable joy.
My morning shatters about my feet,
And I follow.
I cannot meet you on the hill.
Not today.
– Essie Parker Walsh
To Vala’a Noct.
I look into the void
Screaming
Daring it to eat me whole.
Trembling at the possibility
That it might just.
– Essie Parker Walsh
Essie P.W 