My body has forgotten you, forgotten all.
My mind, though tired of hating, hates you still.
But to my soul you are an early dawn,
And sunlit meadows where I may not run.
The Online Journal of a Professional Musician and Accidental Urban Farmer
We Are Writing
A common ground for literature.
Everything is Chaotic
Self-therapy through riding and writing
My Writings
Exploring the spidery corners of a culture and the weird stuff that tourist brochures ignore.
Art • Nature • Exploration
A thoughtful habitat
God even understands cats!
A few humor columns, thoughts on grammar, top lists and anything else I can think of.
Book prescriptions for whatever life throws at you.
The Misadventures of an American Expat and His Wife in Germany
lover of books, writer of tales
Celebrating the urban homestead
English-Language Thoughts
That is such a perfect analogy 🙂
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Wow! You packed a lot into four little lines…and so beautifully said, too!
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