M. Johnson
Bio
There is no bad weather; only bad clothing š
Stories (14/0)
Elle
Elle stood staring out at the endless acres of wheat. Mesmerized she watched as the wind molded it into waves, transforming the field into an ecru ocean. The winds are gentle and warm. They run through Elleās hair lifting and curling each golden strand like ribbons on the breeze. Every gust adorned in the scent of sun kissed earth, and wild lavender. She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. Taking it all in like a snapshot to save in her minds photo album. Just as the sun caressed her skin, she to embraced the sun. I could spend all day describing Elle. Sheās fascinating. I often ask myself if Iām fascinating in any way at all. Donāt fascinating people know they are fascinating? I would assume so.
By M. Johnson2 years ago in Fiction
Motherhood
When I was seventeen I fell deeply in love with my future husband. We did everything together. After dating for almost a year he asked me to marry him. I had known Scott for about three years we spent time together as friends on many occasions. Being with him as friends and lovers I found a feeling of safety. I remember the first time I felt that way about him. I was laying with him as he rubbed my back and I could feel how strong and firm his hands were. He has rough manly hands the kind only hard work can make. I remember the feeling that came over me. I want these hands near me forever. The whole world felt small compared to our love.
By M. Johnson3 years ago in Families