Intuition
« A beautiful morning in May. »
What we see, what we listen.
What we feel without any doubt.
Is it intuition, I cannot say.
An imposture of our thoughts, or worse.
Can we see into our thoughts.
Imagine the worst or the best.
Maybe it's just a truth.
An intuition that comes from elsewhere.
Should we tell or keep it.
In broad daylight or hide it.
In our minds, in our thoughts.
She will be there with regret.
She makes fun of us or our feelings.
Which is sometimes a little disturbing.
How do we stop it?
I have no idea.
Will we ever have the end of history.
It doesn't really matter.
Because we must keep hope.
Let it become obvious.
About the Creator
Tony herlin
A dreamer who neither speaks nor writes English, a difficult but highly instructive exercise. (Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience caused).
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She loves me
She loved me. When I was small and my wee stayed to the paper. When I was rumpled skin and floppy big paws and big eyes looking up and waiting for her hands to find me, scooping me up and bringing me into her. And we were happy, so happy, so very, very happy. I was so happy to see her and danced my circles so she'd know how much I wanted nothing more than for her to hold me. I'd wrap, wiggle, wiggle and wrap my growing body with my bestest happy dance, slumping and kerplumping into her warm parts just like she liked me to. She was there and I was there, and we were there together, and it was perfect. Oh, how she loved me! We spent all our time together, playing inside, outside, up, down, going round and round. And she petted me and called me good girl when I made poops, and sometimes when I weed in her front yard or the neighbor's, and I was the best girl. For her, I really was! And she scratched me behind my ears, and it was heaven. I aowooo my joy! And she aowoooed hers too.
By Christy Munson5 days ago in Fiction
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