Perfect little rosebud mouth, You smiled at me with that; Your giggle fell like sprinkled coins on glass. Moonbeam eyes – a-sparkle. Eyes like opals...
The words of a story leap off the page. I've read that sort of thing in book reviews before. Maybe they seem to. Mama's words are different. They do...
I paint the sky first, beginning with a pure white, washing in some blue, then a different blue, a bright winter aqua. I paint a darker blue into the...