monkeyshines, and banjo grooming. This is where I belong.
When I was a child, small boned, and fragile like a soap bubble, I dreamed of this place. A home where the curtains of eye lids are naked, where the pinholes see boots, grass, milkweed, fingers, and wild flowers. A place where hair flows over ear pockets, and the only sounds are those of laughter, unbroken creek beds, and folk tunes. Until now, it was only a pipe dream…
hugs and sweet kisses !!