Newborn Brilliant times in the home, just a playful baby and me. Brilliant times all alone, just a tearful baby – you’ll see. Brilliant times in the home, just a stinky baby and me.
Look, little kittens, up at the sky. Can you see the black cats sitting upon high? The stars are their eyes all shining bright as they watch over good little kittens in the night.
Every hurt consoles me with a new devotion So wont yah join me in jumpin off these falls… Niagara woman—there’s no such destruction
A small poem about a merchant and his gifts to the world around him. Enjoy writing friends and good day to you all!
Morose Black sleet and sheet of cloud Descend upon the mountain's shoulder Awakening memories in the village below Of the children they've lost on the hill A world of work defines this land
Slipping from beneath the sheets of antiquity, Wiltshire swaddled - steeped in ancient might, always has been master of its own destiny.
Mornings early we began the day with singing and prayer. The choruses are amazingly beautiful with the men's deep voices the African rhythms the clapping and canons and the sisters clear and strong.
Sitting here, listening to the familiar click of the keyboard, trying to supress my deafening anxiety that is bubbling inside of me, intense movements that threaten to break through the skin.
We went in the back end, didn’t know we’d have to wend through a field like a paddy, squishy mud to squelch and puddles to paddle, then, firmer ground where sunshine catches
Emily, they tore down the ABC where we went, every Friday You and Me, in the back row pretending to watch with glasses tinted in Technicolor, and reading each other in brail,