Dreaming on my bed cross-legged
Surrounded by still images:
memories, so to speak –
thousands of them
scattered and strewn
across the sheets,
carpeting the floor
from wall to wall.
Disorderly piles of them
like mountains and valleys
rising and falling
No rhyme or reason.
Category: Poetic works
Her Smile
Hey Anne,
Found this poem in one of Isaac’s boxes. Do you know anything about this woman? Did she really exist? Doubtful huh? 10,000 miles? Not sure anyone would travel 5 miles to visit a loon, except for social workers. Just being real, not mean. I’ve always loved our little brother, but his issues pushed everyone away.
Our ghost, Mr. Shrink, is back again. Poor Isaac!
Be careful, the paper is dried out. Looks like something chewed on it. Wash your hands afterwards!
Lizzy
Notes from David 