Punishment sucks.

A poem about how dreams have a deeper meaning than just pictures in our heads as we sleep.

I think this is quite a sad poem. Please leave comments telling me what you think and you can vote if you like. It would be very much appreciated. Thank you.

When I was eleven, a girl of my own age, Betty Jean Necessary, was tragically murdered while walking in the woods. I was so traumatized that I no longer indulged in my favorite pastime of exploring without great fear. Years later, I decided it was time to broaden the size of my back porch. I drove to parks and other places of interests. Following my instincts and inner wisdom, not only did I feel safe, I found that each aspect of nature had a wonderful story to share. Please enjoy as Deb’s Back Porch Tales continue.

To be centered and grounded in every moment is an experience worth having.

I was so self-centered, I didn’t even bother about how hard my parents were working hard for me.