Mom, high heels, never. Somebody's wife and mother. God first, then the rest. Sunday's dishpan hands style hair spun to golden floss every Friday. Beauty, love, honor. Human condition explored while packing lunches. Peeling potatoes, a knuckle scraped blood red. Anyone notice? How did you do it? Provide the foundation for other people's lives. No explosive throes, demands for acknowledgment. Just, what's for dinner? Grace, beauty, like truth, in the eyes of beholders. Mom, I'm watching you.
Collaboration - 30 poems 30 images 30 days - Day 1 Daddy's little girl reflects a ruined culture that's for sale dirt cheap. Image: Heather Protz , 2011
Collaboration - 30 poems 30 images 30 days - Day 27 Buddha's has eight spokes Catherine's is covered with spikes BK's comes with fries. Image: Heather Protz , 2011.
Comments
Post a Comment