writer-artist-thinker-reader

Finger to the mouth, I touch my soft lips, Dainty they have been described, I know they are not. You have seen me, A short time passing, More nights should be like this, To survive our aging looks. Hands to my ears, Turn around the corner, Comfort ahead of me, Halfway there. By the force
For some reason I’m thinking about the holidays. Back in the day when I lived with my parents, they brought out the bowl of nuts in November or December. I would crack them with the metal tool and with the tiny metal picker, scrape out the pieces that stuck to the sides of the shell.
Is it Thursday already? Has four days gone by without blogging? Yes and yes. What have I been doing in these four days? The usual of working (as most of us know takes up much of our time) and then when I am done with work, I admit I’m finding myself too tired mentally and

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