Musings on Life, Love, and Linguine-Poetry & Writing
Strolling along the River Seine amid shimmering puddles of rain soaked leaves marveling we are here in this city that never sleeps.
Bluebonnets and dreaming of home, a time when life moved slow as bees sang their praises in the meadows and Indian Paintbrushes reached for the sky
As the Dark Angel fell, banished from heaven the universe ripped and unzipped a hole through the cloudy night sky.
In dew kissed morning hours tiny cottoned seed takes flight lands among Spring’s wildflowers seeking sun’s resplendent light.
Be still my thudding heart for there is magic above lurking in his veiled eyes seeking the meaning of love.
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