bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Wednesday 22nd November 2017.

How many words can i scribble about the rain that hurled it's self across myself and the tiny red van i almost live in today..the concrete sky above invites melancholy madness to curl up under ones toes and sleep in warmth as foot prints are cast down lifes rocky road..i wonder if i took the right fork in the wood all those years ago would i have found a spot not quite plum full of rain drops..perhaps.
Is it possible to scribble a letter to ones the hope..that should one pass around life again some where in the tapestry touched with new fingers i might find more than a rhubarb patch...with no droplets of rain.
Just a casting thought as the festive season begins to really gat a grip on my imagination..i wonder what ever happened to all those cabbage patch dolls parents were climbing over cars to reach....are they sat in a rowing boat rowing like hell to escape Mr Trump and his Jolly Roger..ship. Perhaps if one squirted him with the colours of the rainbow he might just stop and think..there again perhaps not...if your on that side of the pond or if your an American sat in a south african coal mine...Have Good day tomorrow...Love and Peace to you all....x

  • Tuesday 21st June 2022.

    Today is the first day of an English Summer, there was a time when you could stand touch Stone Henge with a thought of possibly dancing around quite…

  • Sunday 19th June 2022.

    Today is Fathers Day across Greater Manchester, the sun has shone across the grey slated roofs, my wine glass is almost empty, i wear the…

  • Thursday 16th June 2022.

    I awoke this morning with a Friday head on..thank goodness i did not reach for some old blue uniform, i tucked my silicone in my busted bra..and thus…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.