sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
family Rain falls flat.
On a plate like raisins in a
yogurt tiny molecules swim beneath my eyes.
Cry no more.
I had promised to myself that I would write every day, but flu season has come 'round, and so I had to coordinate six children to make sure all six of them didn't catch it. It seems as if my little Gabe has it, he looks miserable, the poor thing. Rev is keeping the two older boys and taking them to school, Oliver is staying with his other school mate, Belle is with my best girlfriend (Emma) who is also my doctor, and poor Ginny must stay with me and Harry and tough it out. My entries might be short and a little less literary for awhile, but still I swear they will come. I miss the children and all of their noise, and I miss the clean bed I used to share with darling Harry that wasn't occupied with sick children.
Once when all of us were sixteen, Rev, Harry, and I took a roadtrip and slept three to one bed for two weeks. I woke up in the middle of the night, Harry to my left, Rev to my right their heads bobbing up and down on their pillow as they breathed in the night air. I kissed Harry's mouth, his lips moved in his sleep and he wrapped his arms around me. He smiled to himself. "They don't get us, tods," he whispered to me. And I knew what he meant. No one had ever gotten us. Rev watched us in grogginess, he put his palm on my back so Harry couldn't see and kept it there all night.
There is yellow and lime green vomit covering his pale skin. Poor thing. I lay him in the bath as he whimpered and ran a warm washcloth through his curly blonde hair. Harry came in and kissed his forehead. "Look at those flushed cheeks," he said. For a couple of days my little darling will be fine again, though now I feed him cherry medicine in a small spoon and it dribbles down his chin. None of the other sports can get it, or I might die myself. When they're sick, I'm sick, and I miss the life of when they were well.
New tiny pinpricks are keeping me awake. How long can I live this way when you aren't by my side? The fleshy warmth of being damp and naked under silky covers is something I want again.
On a plate like raisins in a
yogurt tiny molecules swim beneath my eyes.
Cry no more.
I had promised to myself that I would write every day, but flu season has come 'round, and so I had to coordinate six children to make sure all six of them didn't catch it. It seems as if my little Gabe has it, he looks miserable, the poor thing. Rev is keeping the two older boys and taking them to school, Oliver is staying with his other school mate, Belle is with my best girlfriend (Emma) who is also my doctor, and poor Ginny must stay with me and Harry and tough it out. My entries might be short and a little less literary for awhile, but still I swear they will come. I miss the children and all of their noise, and I miss the clean bed I used to share with darling Harry that wasn't occupied with sick children.
Once when all of us were sixteen, Rev, Harry, and I took a roadtrip and slept three to one bed for two weeks. I woke up in the middle of the night, Harry to my left, Rev to my right their heads bobbing up and down on their pillow as they breathed in the night air. I kissed Harry's mouth, his lips moved in his sleep and he wrapped his arms around me. He smiled to himself. "They don't get us, tods," he whispered to me. And I knew what he meant. No one had ever gotten us. Rev watched us in grogginess, he put his palm on my back so Harry couldn't see and kept it there all night.
There is yellow and lime green vomit covering his pale skin. Poor thing. I lay him in the bath as he whimpered and ran a warm washcloth through his curly blonde hair. Harry came in and kissed his forehead. "Look at those flushed cheeks," he said. For a couple of days my little darling will be fine again, though now I feed him cherry medicine in a small spoon and it dribbles down his chin. None of the other sports can get it, or I might die myself. When they're sick, I'm sick, and I miss the life of when they were well.
New tiny pinpricks are keeping me awake. How long can I live this way when you aren't by my side? The fleshy warmth of being damp and naked under silky covers is something I want again.
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