It’s the passing of my first dog.
It’s the first last kiss.
It’s that pretty girl at a pub outside of Shakespeare’s House
….roaming the dirty streets in a little known village just outside of London.
It’s in the way she made everything seem so sudden.
it’s the day the family room lost it’s family.
When screaming became an emotion
hate became a nightly guest.
It’s when sensitivity got placed in the pocket of my coat of arms.
It’s when fairy tales could do some harm
It’s catch and release…
And, in the middle…
an occasional bit of peace.