By Damien Knight
I held her
For a moment
The smell of her
Long dark hair
I gazed upon her
For a while
Holding to her
Bright green eyes
I touched her
In an instant
Feeling her
Soft brown skin
I drifted
For an eternity
In her arms
Only to wake
To wake and find
That once again
I was dreaming
And she is not real
Helping people help dogs.
A Bookish Blog For Lovers of The Written Word
I am a writer who often dawdles (wastes time). So here I am, procrastinating by talking about organization, writing tips, teaching writing tips, and other random things to keep up my writing habits, when I should be writing my novel, and here you are, dawdling as well. C'mon in and join me for some dawdling (and pretending we're not).
The Outrageously True Musings of an Armchair Linguist
Quotes, Stories and life tips by Author Ceco
