I like the way your lips feel on my neck.
My love walked down the mountain. He’s been gone too long. If he ain’t dead, he’s banged up, or in the arms of some high-heeled, briefcase-carryin’ citified floozy.
Blue sky lift me up
up to the heavens
so I can look down
and lay my eyes upon him
Talking with my son tonight about entertaining topics for his vlog. We watched a bunch of the Your Grammar Sucks videos. He asked me what “twit” meant. We looked it up. There was twaddle, sitting under the synonym subhead. Twit…Twitter…Twitter Twaddle.
When I was in high school, I slept barracks-style with my three sisters in a large room with a concrete floor. There was a screened, floor-to-ceiling, doorway-sized opening at the head of my bed, about six inches from the edge of my mattress. No window glass or door, just a screen nailed to the frame. One morning I woke up to a cow chewing grass, about three feet from my head, on the other side of the screen. About ten feet behind him, there was a short rise that fell into a deep valley on the other side. The valley was lush with grass and cows. Now it’s nothing but condos.