Where was my cherry?

Poem written to a picture of a breakfast table with a plate of ‘fried bacon and eggs, tomatoes, with crisp half burnt toast, and a glass of pure red grape juice…

A dog’s love is so special.

Late nights in a diner. You know who you are.

Writer’s challenge using "bad smells" and "disappointments".

An egg doesn’t always stay on the farm to hatch. Sometimes the egg becomes breakfast.

Things in life that drive me up the wall…

A poem about my day.

A what if look at a fair degree of nonsense.

His car was a black Acrua. Kim ran to him dropping her bag on the ground. She leaped onto to him, she held on tightly. He grinned with excitement since he haven’t seen Kim in three months.