Leaving without him

If You Are A Parent Do NOT Miss This!!

flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw

“i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)”
– E.E. Cummings

Twisted deeply within the realization of this being the day of goodbye A warm sorrow reverberates through my limbs down to my heavy steps homeward. This is the part of loving wholeheartedly that I wish I could skip over. When the sunset arrives and takes you with it far from where I am. From the first time I laid eyes on you your inner charm worked magic on me a spirit who dared to explore, balancing fences, tree limbs, to rooftop scrambles while others shouted, "There is a kid up there." You never were the "play it safe" kind. I knew the someday would come of releasing you to fly in the wind. This motherhood thing sucks just when you've spent 18 years falling in love with your boy (even on days when you didn't feel like…

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Run With Scissors Because

Midwest Fantasy Writes

run w scissorsRun with scissors

   because you’re not supposed to

Say NO when asked

   because you don’t have to

Day drink

   because you simply want to

Go commando

   because it’s freeing

Wear the high heels

   because your legs look great and to hell with pain

Break made up rules

   because who the fuck made them anyway

Love more than one

   because hearts are big and have lots of room

Live how you wish

   because the only rules come from within

©MidwestFantasy

07/09/2017

Ph|Google Images

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Quill

Scattered Notebooks

Scritch, scratch by faint candle light,
deep and long into the night –
a man sits down and begins to write –

a new country is born.

Scratch, splotch, by dim light’s glow,
the words, ideas, and the fanfare grows.
On a page are scrawled a nations notes

and an anthem’s scored.

Scritch, drip, by sun’s bright shine,
we feel the love from a dreamer’s rhyme,
recorded carefully line by line,

penned on a summer morn.

Scratch and scratch, by the warm hearth fire
a man is hunched, over words inspired,
which live and breathe thru the test of time

and Juliet we mourn.

Scritch, and scratch, while cannons rage,
in a modest room, words across a page,
a thoughtful man frees a race of slaves

and ends a violent war.

.

© L. Rose

via Daily Prompt: Quill

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