The novelty of alliteration, discovered in childhood (a time that often seems like a million years ago to me now) never really faded.
Homity pie and loss Poems That Make Grown Men Cry
It whispers, “Yesterday was inevitable.” Tomorrow remains a choice Today is just today –
A windmill spins backwards to September sneaking in through a gap in the fence
A Rogue drOplet. – Winged – glist —ens allotropic, shadowly all over
.too blurry to read through; Still to Inspire… soft strands
“Hi, yes… My wife has (a working diagnosis of) Kiss-my-Asperger’s.