Musings on Life, Love, and Linguine-Poetry & Writing
To be a creative child once more dreaming of Rose the bright violet horse to skip and play, counting only to four hopscotching your way through life’s course.
Come Mon Chéri, sip on my red wine ‘neath the tender bowers of the jasmine vine.
As I watch graceful dandelion seeds today dancing through the sweet air, happy and gay like music notes bouncing in turquoise sky I hear a haunting song as they begin to play.
Flaunting my stripped being thoughts spilling forth, haunting molten metaphors erupting exploding from my heart without warning
Serve me cold champagne every day and let’s dance in pale evening’s light clinging to one another, dipping, swaying to lulling sounds of nature’s orchestral night.
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