on some days memories are like little kids with muddy feet leaving footprints all over the kitchen when they come in...a good day for reading in a sun puddle while the crisp air slides around...dawgs snore and music plays, but today all i do is stare at the ceiling and wonder
1 comment:
And then later the mud does crisp up and flake off and fly around the kitchen like weightless moths. So the memories don't leave a mess, you see. Which is nice of them.
~What a cool blog you have, faerie brilliant-headed one!
Post a Comment