Choose Gratitude
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My Mother’s Love From heaven fell those gentle dropsto kiss each leaf and bloom,A gentle, restful tapping onThe window of my room. My mother laid a cool, damp clothUpon my fevered brow.She took my hand, she stroked my hairMade soothing noises now. The fever burned much hotter nowCould scarcely see or hear,Yet through it all…
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Well, I’ve survived another month of poetry without my brain actually dribbling out my ears. Now I just have to wait for it to stop automatically trying to rhyme every single word I think of. So grateful to everyone who takes a few minutes from their day to read these. Speaking of gratitude… Enjoy! Choose…
Brain Bits To Go 