trublu
Who would think to put pink dyed human hair with blue carnations? She registered the surprise on my face and gleefully told me it could be worn as a head piece to the ceremony. All I could think was how much times have changed.
The little guys' eyes darted left. right. left again. right and then up. Up, left, right. down. left right. He was dizzy. His eyes haven't worked this hard. EVER. If he was to know himself he had better study his surroundings.
Her head rolled back, her throat muscular, holding her head while the wild, lusty laughter pushed its way to the world.
Is it wrong to wear flare in my own kitchen, on my own apron? I mean no one pays me to wear all these buttons. My flare says things like- I'll believe corporations are individuals when Texas executes one. The spicey flare is welcome in my kitchen.
Shuffle off to Buffalo
go baby go
it's fall
enjoy the drive
its a long way from
Alabamie
enjoy the color
the wind will blow
and scatter all that color
go baby go
She tied the box up with a sturdy brown cloth ribbon. It held her contents. It held her new beginning.
She was positively not going to stare at the puppy. Even if it whined and wimpered. Or tumbled around like a furry ornament that would hang in her heart.
Prints was a small kitten. Grey and darker grey with a black swishy tail. His mew was melodic and his affection true.
writing since 2011 · 8 entries · 8 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Trublu showed up.
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8days written
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the words Trublu reaches for
flareheadgreyheldbabyenjoycolorwearkitcheneyesprintskittendarkerblackswishytail