Perspectives and Stories
They say that there are at least two sides to every story.
But so many only see what they see in some sort of self glory.
They say that there are at least two sides to every story.
But so many only see what they see in some sort of self glory.
On a cold December afternoon, a mix of clouds and sun in the sky
We went over the river and into the woods, just the twins and I.
It might have been eight or more weeks ago that I started thinking about this piece. It has likely changed its form within my wandering brain several times since then, but finally I arrived at some words to put down. Random thoughts, lyrics, lines of poetry, and words have surfaced during long drives and sleepless hours in the early mornings. Our Kids and the Class of 2020
Just when the hours were no longer fitting into each day. And many nights found me weeping, head in my hands. Thoughts were reactive and words seemed only for display. All creative energy was emptied just meeting demands.
This morning I came outside to find this little treat. A canvas of sorts, so detailed, so neat. Frosty, the Windshield
Once in awhile I come upon a scene that tugs at me along the way. One I cannot pass without stopping long enough to hear what it has to say. Torn from where ever I… Along The Way
I may not own a kingdom, or even a castle if truth be told. Oh but there is joy whenever I cross that simple threshold. I am not a royal, or high-ranking, and certainly not… I Call It Home
The Old Farmer (2014) The Old Farmer Too On a walk over a hill, alongside a green field, I saw the old farmer again just the other day. He didn’t look up as he walked,… The Old Farmer Too
In the depths of darkness in the silence of the night, you know exactly what you do. Yet the sobbing mass we see is only there to tug on the heartstrings of those invested in you.Praying With The Prey