Did we begin
exactly when I told you
the story I could only
think myself alone
at night–cocooned
in covers pulled over
my ears, for extra
security, a barrier
of total darkness
where I could
visit impossibilities
overshadowed
in the light?
A poem-a-day for National Poetry Month
my website and blog
finding poetry
Writing to My Roots
...because life is a beautiful mess
sharing joy with the human spirit, in mid-air, around the world
life by design in a small and still charming town.
"A torn jacket is soon mended, but hard words bruise the heart of a child." Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
since nobody has the time or patience to sit down and read an actual book
Mental wanderings amongst stardust
For lovers of reading, crime writing, crime fiction
And perhaps some punctuation?
Nowhere else
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A Little Lift of Lemon Drops! 