I dreamt of you
today
though I didn’t see your face
I knew
it was you
the number was seven
and it was bright yellow
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SOB with me
Your Sympathies:
CopyScape
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Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor
Imagine if I weren't medicated….
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March 30, 2009 at 12:46 pm
poeticgrin
I’m sure you shielded your eyes from the unbearable light.
MEMORY: I’m seven years old and stung by a yellowjacket.
April 6, 2009 at 8:46 pm
Patrice
You’ve been so prolific… and all I do is work right now… (and sleep)… I hope to catch up soon…
meanwhile:
I love this little poem for Brian. And having been the victim of many a yellow jacket gang, I can identify.
Yellow doesn’t always mean a smiley face…