Riveting quiescent memories queued up,
Queer queasiness spreading a quadrillion quaint sensations,
Quaggy terrain surrogates arid nostalgia.
Linking with Blogging from A to Z Challenge : April 2014
The pulse of freedom
There is a sight I hold dear. A misty morning, a grey veil, green hills in the background, lush and abundant. On the fore, at about 100 feet...
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He went there. Daily. Unfailingly. His conversations, Candid, Intimate. And why not! He had Inspired That iron-man, ...
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The 12 inch heel, the confident gait, The measured steps, the sudden halt, The blush on cheeks, the smoldering eyes, The hands on h...
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The sun was nearly gone. So were the last of his passengers. That was what he thought. Driving the cab at snail-pace through city’s traffi...
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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.