I simply dance to its gypsy heart
A dream and an impossible job.
Her silhouette, Brown mustard figure Against glowing amber oak. Laces and strings, Scarf and tassels; Looped and tied; Girded and saddled.
Do you rumble? Do you roar?
It does not think about the afternoon, with it’s faded colors and too-bright sun.
Where mirrors and circles intersect she see herself
I’m starting a diet … but it’s not what you think. You gotta put all thoughts of food aside. This isn’t about food.
I’d love to tell you the story of a woman who wouldn’t sit still.
If hope is to be pursued, one must listen to the tangled words of mystics, of children, of the witless.
I’ve observed that fear is the number one culprit for living an unfilled life. I’m choosing to turn in my old fear jalopy for a
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