Wee rowan laddrums me into nighta fabled rhythmconjuring mysticaloneiric encounters There is freedomin dreamingslipping ego’s holdsoul taking flight There is sorrow toofor when the drummer’ssong is donemorning must come. (Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Age, a rocky torbegs attitudinal shiftmore wonderthan fortitude Cyclical, actuallywisdom allottingchildish valoura dash of mellow. (For RDP’s prompt: mellow. Image my own.)
It wasn’t the knowledge of stability –chaos had the upper hand back then.It wasn’t even that love was expressed –unconditional an unheard of concept It was an unspoken presencethe reassurance of rocksthe irrepressible allureof a freshwater stream How a child’s heart found encouragementin the whispering windsolace in arbored shelter Naturally the din of home lifeoverpowered […]
Now that was fun … I loved it. 😉
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You are bringing out my darker side, Deb. Pretty scary, lol.
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But your writing great pieces – I’m really enjoying them 🙂
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Always good to stretch ourselves, right? Thanks, Deb.
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Oh my goodness! You have to watch out for gators lol 🐊
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Ha ha – yes, you do!
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