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 […]
It is indeed a crime to dump alcohol, I’ll be around in the morning to pick up. Also I gather no relationships can be dumper here either 🙂
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Lol – might have to get there quick.
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On my way, glass in hand
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Yep, commas would be good 😉
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Uh huh…
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🙂
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That’s right. Dump that alcohol in my glass first, then give me the keys to your vehicle. You don’t want to drink & drive. 🤣🤣🤣
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lol!
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Always helpful 🙂
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Lol
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