My journal of big words and pretty pictures
A big comfy chair and cuppa tea Grandma’s quilt a snug cocoon about my legs Well-loved pen held easy in aging fingers Blank paper thirsty for my bard’s ink Words swirl and spin around my head Fanciful yarns and chilling mysteries Feline companion, most enigmatic of all mysteries Catnip and lemon tea Soft fur to … Continue reading A cat and a cuppa tea
She was a woman of a certain age, an age where she was told how she speaks, how she dresses, how she conducts herself was unbecoming a woman of her maturity. She felt like a pedestrian pedestrian walking through life head down, stumbling through traffic uninspired. The fortune teller’s sign, unnoticed on other trips downtown, … Continue reading How old would you be
You could read the sign on the side of Dr. Randall’s medicine wagon from a half-mile away. He’d roll into town every couple of months to put on a show. It was a cross between a tent revival meeting and a wandering minstrel faire. Granny used to say all Randall sold was snake oil and … Continue reading Medicine Show
Brain weasels chatter rudely Changing subjects midsentence. Keeping so many thoughts deftly Swirling in perfect balance Is harder than it appears. A juggling act of epic Proportions, by vague puppeteers, Meanspirited and choleric. Forgetfulness a necessary Defense against vicious lies Meant to keep life unhealthy Upended, disturbed otherwise. These are cautionary tales, To not believe … Continue reading Don’t believe everything you think
“You’ll never find it,” Bobbi said, kicking at dry leaves blowing against her feet. “He left a gift,” Jules said, her hand shading her eyes from the sun. “so he also left a way to find it.” Bobbi and Jules stood at the corner of a vast meadow, a small grove of elms and oak … Continue reading A standout
I try to avoid walking down that side of the street, though sometimes I can’t escape it. Whenever I go past the abandoned lot hidden behind pealing paint and rusty nails, I get that feeling that someone is watching me. Like, If I turned around suddenly I’d see a wild-eyed face pressed against the weathered … Continue reading Watching, waiting
Thin spiral notebook 