hello dearest Thomas I have come so far I can feel you there…I’ll meet you there alone…Robyn was beautiful always giving to others…congratulations on you sobriety I wish I could say the same it’s not in the cards for me and the dark is constant company ❤️

Powerfully penned, Thomas. Excellent tribute write my friend. We’re losing so many voices far too early, I feel this one. Congrats on three years of sobriety brother. Lucky for us, we walked away from that demon. But no one walks away unscathed, we carry those scars still. Appreciate you.

Damian

Thank you. Much appreciated.

Robin was a hard blow to so many of all generations. When the darkness swallows them whole, it leaves us a little broken. This is an incredible tribute to those voices and a great example of your own. Those 3 years are a thing to be proud of, I know they can’t have been easy. Congratulations!

I can’t tell You how this touchs me personally… Profound, genuine, sincere and moving the innerself in a whole way. This is a true masterpiece not only as poetry, but as feelings and human nature. Thank You for writing and sharing this truly outstanding piece 🤍

Thank you.

Thomas loss was never painted more strongly with with such sad nostalgia as in this poem. Loved this and could feel it deep down. Because most of my old friend have passed on too. I miss them and see myself in your poem.

John

I love abandoned buildings and urbex, places that have personality & soul. It really makes you think about all the stories and feelings that haunt those rooms long settled into stillness and the quiet noise of slow decay, so much like those old folks now mostly forgotten.

Fantastic, and abandoned. Excellent.

Powerful work. Vivid and sharp.

Powerfully penned, Willow. Excellent write my friend, your choice in accompaniment fit your words nicely. You have an ear for it in fact. Nicely done as always. I dig this a lot. Appreciate you.

Damian

Art at its best. We’re lucky to have you here Willow.

Now it matches you. 🙏💖

Willow, I hardly know what to say. It is a great honor to have something named for me. I am doubly pleased that it is a decaying old thing which — no, this is not an insult!– that it creaks, with unspoken stories and strangely unseen secrets; the wind does whistle through my cracked windows, my friend, and curiosity still burns with undying heat. another story is always waiting. Yes, you couldn’t have painted a better picture of me with a camera. Thank you for this lovely, lovely gift!
FD