That Morning Sluggishness

There’s a slug in my shower

– sorry you’ll have to go

but however you  got there

I’ll just never know!

 

There’s a slug in my shower

-yes, you might well make haste

And, if that’s how you got there,

go on, back down that waste!

 

There’s a slug in my shower

-Yes, I know you’re quite small

But I just can’t be sharing…

That wouldn’t do at all!

 

There’s a slug in my shower

-yes… it’s raining outside

But you’d get just as wet here,

No use trying to hide!

 

There’s a slug in my shower

-what a card! Enjoy the ride.

I’ll drop you off real gently…

There now, you’re back outside.

 

There’s a no slug in MY shower

-for a moment  I felt sad

But then again…Hey buddy!

Can you find your OWN pad?hug me slugs

Photo credit: http://elizabethruffing.com/2015/06/finally-more-stuffed-toy-slugs.html

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Journey

Packing
For Christmas
My little girl
Not so little anymore.
Sad

On the Shelf

11.10.13
I enter the book shop and am surrounded with the presence of cherished and best-beloved clutter. Now de-cluttered and spaced out in harmonious surroundings. Laid out on the shelves like some respectful chapel of rest for those who will to come and pay their respects – as I do. Not abandoned yet ownerless. I think, when I am a presence in some biodegradable casket or lying mingled with the roots of some vibrant young whipper-snapper of a rose bush, I should feel comforted to know that my friends and companions who live upon the shelves, will find another home and a new viewpoint from someone who will love them as I do.
I feel at peace; when the time comes I will be leaving my books to the Oxfam bookshop.

Telling stories

We peruse a few old documents and speculate on who might have written them, who may have typed them. We think of the stories that they might inspire and our laughter carries through the shop window  – making passers-by look in enviously. We get side-tracked – a chat about books (e-books and the old-fashioned kind), we sip James’ apple juice and make a mess with Jo’s magnificent muffins  then finally we get around to sharing our stories and all of us have a different style, a different taste in what we choose to write – the way we choose to write it.  Like a jigsaw, our little group fits together and actually the picture we create is quite random…but it’s a comfortable randomness and a nice place to belong.

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