Some days I scoop up love in those neon-hued plastic shovels from a kiddie sand pit, scrape-whoosh, scrape-whoosh, filling the spirit, topping it up with a rare fill of generosity and compassion, so that I may lie back, eyes closed, contented, and bask in the simmer of affection until darkness swarms and she siphons me out again.
O Mother mine, dementors chant like schoolboys at your feet.
whatdayamean?
Came by to comment on the post – I could do with one of those days, when I can scoop me up some happiness and sunshine to last me through this week and some more. Got distracted by your tweet though – ‘Missing: one frisky uterus. Last seen following Chinese child with dimpled knees and button nose.’
My uterus is on a holiday in the U.S, playing fairy godmother to a 4 month old with a half head of hair, a dimply smile and the cutest crinkly eyes! Sometimes, just sometimes, she pays me a visit here, only to help a 2 year old doe- eyed beauty in a swimsuit (with a bow on the bum!) build sandcastles with neon- hued plastic shovels and sing loud, off- tune melodies to the smiling old watchman at the gate.
P: 😕
Roxana: Awwwwwwww! Tell me more baby tales. 😀
My darling OJ, suchlike is good to hoard
Haul all these memories on mind-board
Erase the rest
That’s for the best
They stay set when they’re closed-doored!
As Gul di here says hoard all those good memories & erase the rest.And who couldn’t do with a shovelful of love.