s c r i b b l i n g

Friday Repost
for my new friends,
a little dig in the
archives for you.
also, today is a
travel day so my
replies will be
delayed until
later tonight. ty.
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scribbling
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images (23)
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i seem
to remember
when i was a kid,
being in my
room

and

laying
on my belly
surrounded by
page after page
of white and
colored
paper.

and

each
of them
filled to the
edges, every
square inch
used up

and

how many
hours i spent
by myself,
so deep
in my

i m a g i n a t i o n

just

s c r i b b l i n g .

and it’s funny,
there was
never
the
fear of
failure then.

because there
was always
another
blank
page

and

if

i

filled up
all the
paper,

ooh!

that
empty wall…
.
images (24)

tiptoe

dear new friends and old,
we are leaving in a few hours to spend
some time with family and to continue our
labor of love, restoring the 100 year old
house on our farm. i’ll be back on Tuesday,
in the meantime i thought i would repost this
poem, my second after joining 20 Lines A Day
in April.

thank you all for your continued and constant
encouragement, it means so very much to me.

if it weren’t for all of you, i wouldn’t be writing
this poetry of mine. please know what a gift you
have given me, that some days i still can’t believe
this is my blog, these are my words and you all,
are my friends.

thank you, so very much,
{{{ h u g s }}} and *smiles* to you all

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tiptoe.
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th

Amid this winter’s grey mist grip
our April mocks her Spring impression.
Rush hour red lights stop and start,
frustrated and my happened glance at

a waif like girl no more than nine,
she’s mouthing words of imagined rhyme.
I watch her whispering monologues
as she tiptoes boulders in the park.

Pure innocence her soft protection
from cruel worlds I suffer much too well.
I mouthed my thank you to the waif
and she tiptoed boulders until dark.
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written April 14 2013
submitted to 20 Lines A Day
prose and poetry challenge for April