Playing with Missouri as we chat,
Calling the Doctor as we relax,
Being intoxicated by Lavender as we drink.
A white hair transferred,
An artist discovered,
An object in time,
A moment, reflected,
A comfort, taken.
----------
A date changes,
A decade forgets,
A month is shed,
An hourglass is flipped.
Stepping stones, like memories,
lead into the future,
the path clear, yet slippery,
the stones smooth,
the rough edges not yet in our memory.
The musings of a self-proclaimed rat.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
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