Autobiography

A Walk With Aleesa

While away from school, I consumed much of my free time with the girl next door. She was my age and the proximity of our homes promoted an almost obligatory friendship.
Cherry

Hidden memories

Between the kitchen, the hall and your bedroom, are all of the moments we missed since childhood. Holding our breathes and quietly filtering the air,

Just peace

My quiet journey back from an endless abyss

To Pen a Poem

To pen a poem is to sing a song. words take flight and soar carrying aloft, enchanting thoughts to soothe the weary soul. Transporting others - from their troubles shifting gloom,
Cherry

sitting on my fathers shoulders

Sitting on my father’s shoulders; Smiling oh so secretly, Watching leaves curl up the roadside, feeling the soothing southern breeze. I felt content upon those shoulders,

leggingsrscam10@60+com

the beginning of the end....of the story

Oh how I hate to say this, I leave here very well.

As I hear the hollow clanking of the heavy Iron bell, With woods surround, all grey fibrous and as dark as night; Oh how I hate to say this, I leave here very well.

Visiting Hour

“Tell me – do you believe in reincarnation?” she asks.

Shedding Skin

To take a blade and feel it rip Across the veins, reaping the blood within To watch the beading of the red To feel inside, on the outside collect To part the skin, to hear it speak

Annalong

A little poem about my home town, Annalong. Not sure whether I have found memories or bad memories of it, I think a mix of both. I tried to reflect them both here.