what a shame

ain’t no shame in cryin’, passionately pensive

She wrote furiously. Scribbling. Looping. Pausing dramatically. I couldn’t read her words; I didn’t dare peak over her protectively curled arm. The tears welling in the corner of her eyes spoke clear enough: all was not well. She tried to hide her tears, but I sat in their presence and wished I could cry, too.

prince caspeen, i write to be rid of things

Trying to reason with a six year-old works about 15% of the time, which is a good enough success rate to justify an attempt.

shame shame, m: art et cetera

Waiting for Twelve, nightsbrightdays

No matter how hard I cheer, no matter how much I will victory with clenched fists, locked jaw, and held breath, we can’t seem to find another Triple Crown winner.

The Wax and the Wings, Word Shepherd

I like to hover for a moment in the story of Daedalus and Icarus with the two of them in the air, flush with the joy of their escape. I like to fill my lungs with a deep breath of salt air and hope. I like to feel the sun that, yes, is warm enough to melt wax, but that also warms my smiling lips.


Posted on May 10, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on what a shame.

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