words about thoughts and some other stuff
Exerpt:
On a wintry night he sneaked up behind
And whispered, “Who do you love?”
She smiled and said, “It’s you, baby boy, you know it’s you.”
So they kissed in the snow until their toes were frozen,
Then laughing, rushed home to bed.
Raking leaves was doing absolutely nothing to ease my muddled mind, so I took a long walk where I encountered two adorable young lovers and some musically appreciative cows.
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I have a perfect life.
So people say; so it must be.
I want for nothing, except for you.
There, I said it: I want you.
My state’s cheeky nickname–Trumpsylvania–will become relevant a bit later in this post. I’ll just start by saying I come from a long line of proud Democrats.
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Yesterday seemed determined to chap my ass and laugh about it. But just when I was about to write the whole day off as off as an overcooked shitburger, something happened.
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Don’t quit your day job.
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Characteristically, we Pennsylvanians–urban are rural– are a study, working class people. We’re also woodsy.
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When he was young, my son loved to go for walks using his keen litt-boy eyes to scout for treasures.
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I’m not gonna lie; as an athlete, I’m woefully lacking.
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I think a 38th wedding anniversary deserves an original poem, don’t you?
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Prose and Poesy 