Branches slap her skin
She runs through the place
Like it’s her own
She’s lost but she just keeps going
Webs tickle her nose
And a thousand baby spiders crawl under her clothes
She’s a forest baby This is her home
-Saschia Johnson
Been working on editing my collection of poetry and figuring out the best way to promote and sell it. Very exciting and very stressful. Definitely learning a lot. yay!
Jayne.press 