His Last Message To Me by Hillbillygirl, literature
Literature
His Last Message To Me
Light brown hair, blue eyes and precious smile a reflection of him.
Little hands reach up to touch my cheeks.
A sweet, soft voice saying, "Daddy home?"
Reaching out, I take her hand in mine.
How can I tell her daddy's not coming home?
Tears coming to me eyes, I turn my head.
Not yet old enought to understand, she looks to his chair.
Looking into her beautiful eyes his face I see in her.
My heart begans to beat so hard, I fear she feels it too.
The smell of his aftershave lotion still lingers on her shirt.
The scent breaking down my emotional locked door.
Setting her down, she waddles to his chair and touches the cushion.
Visions o
My Spirited One
Come to me my spirited one.
Rest your weary spirit against my soul.
Let me take your uneasy prance and turn it into a dance.
Let me hold your unbrideled passion and make it a freedom.
Let me take your heart filled with untrust and let you feel my my own.
Come to me my spirited one, rest your body and your mind.
Let me take you to the place you belong where you can be happy and free.
Written By: Hillbilly Girl
July 11, 2010
Wind buffeted the small sedan as it swirled up the winding bypass, the silver beams of its headlights the only illumination in the deep September night. Camilyn leaned her head against the passenger window, staring blankly into the scant ribbon of evergreen her naked eyes could penetrate. Beside her, her husband stirred briefly from his taut grip on the steering wheel to run a hand over her hunched shoulders. “We didn’t have to come, you know,” he told her.
She looked back at him questioningly. Sometimes Neal said things just to so-called comfort her that didn’t ring true to his earlier expressed vi
She knew to always make it to safety before the possession started. She wasn't going to make it this time. Returning home at dusk with an armload of driftwood, she'd reached the long strip of shoreline between the wharves and taller dunes which held the larger branches. Already for minutes she'd been in sight of fishermen bringing in their catches. They seldom waved, but she knew they watched for her, and would come find her flopping in the sand like a fish out of water.
That sense was there in the sides of her mind, like stars come early, and sand in her mouth, no! She turned abruptly i