Would I see you in the dark? With all the lights out? Only the sound of your breath to guild me to where you are? If I found you there, how would I know it was you? Would it be the curve of your face? the feel of your nose as I traced a finger over it? Would there be scars there to Identify you for certain to my blind eyes? Would I know you because of some physical feature only I can touch or the way your heart beats if I put my ear to your chest? Would I know you even if I just walked around you not touching you at all?
I believe I would with out question know you. Just by the scar on your nose from when you were a child or the sound of your heart or the feel of your presence. I feel you when you are miles away or when you walk in a room every time long before I ever see you. I know you by the Adams rib you carry on your chest, the curve of your jaw, I am sure it is you.
I write. I knit. I paint beautiful paintings. I sell cars for now. It is temporary. The job I returned to Delaware with is not running yet. I have to sclep cars once again( We hates it my Precious). It's kind of like a famous song writer singing or writing jingles to pay the rent. That is not what I am going to talk about. I am going to talk about knitting. It is the way I relieve stress. Knitting is not for the grandmotherly only. It is cutting edge design and construction. It is like…Continue
I am a traveler in a wooden boat tied to a distant shore.
My sail is yet furled but soon I will catch the wind, I will be gone yet again.
Do not worry or cry the swell is small,I will not die.
The wind will catch my hair blow it whither it will go, the sun will soon rise pink on the horizon,
It will set yet again but I will not tie to another shore just as I feel I need to wander more.
The journey is long I've been on it so very long, where I go I do…Continue
Ideas are like roses they begin as a tiny bud at the end of a rose cane. The cane is still dorment but the rose still exists, in its eternal infancy. The ideas we grow and nurture, then turn to written pastorial or emoitional portrates in our lives are alot like that. Some times they are a gift given to us by friends. Some times they are things we witness which contribute to our decision to write, a way to effect social or personal change. Ideas are gifts we give to each other. They grow…Continue
I was talking to a friend of mine on face book. The question she asked is does the change of the season make everyone nastalgic? I thought about this. Yes, it does. It makes me long for the times when I was young growing up in Pennsylvania on a small plot of land with barns, fruit trees, colored woods, long rustling grass and wood fires. The chill crisp in the air, warm woolen socks, the wood stove in the house with a tea pot boiling away on it and my mother baking bread everyday just as I…Continue