Eight Foot Blue - 6
What I hated most about life, and the holiday, was walking anywhere with Dad.
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- 1973 reads
She wore a feather bower
She wore a feather bower Lay upon the ground To me it wasn’t a great mystery To me—was her crown? Had my princedom, my esprit This empted hour
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- 1071 reads
Again and again and again
Skin to skin starting with a tickle and a tease
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Contradiction?
believing yet no faith at all
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- 457 reads
I sang you a love song...
I sang you a love song... Strong as an oak Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Amour, amour, amour... Weak to the stroke Centre to the core The wheel and spoke. Amour, amour, amour...
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- 891 reads
Driving Great Aunt Maisie
We'd already done 'I Spy' to death...
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- 5813 reads
SF. Pt. 16. Mewsing.
Excuse the pun.
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- 1962 reads