Posts Tagged "Nancy Lou Henderson"

Seed of Love

Posted by in Poetry | 0 comments

Seed of Love

Seed of Love Darkness does surround, Waiting in the ground, Moisture touches me, Waking me to flee, Outer shell has burst,  Increasing my thirst, Breaking thru the earth, Today is my rebirth Sunlight on my face, Feeling God’s amazing grace Stand firm and straight, Budding flowers await, Flowers soon to bloom, Removing human gloom, Once a lifeless seed, Sharing love in times of need.                                                                                                      By...

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I Am Sick of Myself

Posted by in The Widow's Blog | 10 comments

I Am Sick of Myself

For some reason, Myself has become a total nuisance.  Although I am used to being alone with Myself, we are not getting along.  As a matter of fact, we are not even speaking to each other. I want to do stuff around the house, but Myself thinks we are on vacation and wants to sit on the couch playing games on my phone or watching Netflix movies.  Lord forbid an exciting series comes up on the screen with ten thousand episodes, Myself wants to watch, which becomes an all-nighter. Myself thinks it’s fun to make me want to snack and drink water, then signals me to run to the bathroom. You...

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Waking You Up

Posted by in short story | 2 comments

Waking You Up

  There was an aroma of coffee perking, as the alarm buzzed loudly. Elsa knew it was time to get out of bed, but she laid there thinking, with her eyes closed, before turning the alarm off. She loved the bookstore downstairs, but as the owner, she knew it had monopolized her life, keeping her robotic seven days a week. The bookstore was only open to the public Monday thru Saturday, but on Sundays, Elsa did book work and restocked the bookshelves. Knowing it was Sunday, Elsa felt even more alone than usual as she got out of bed. Since it was Sunday, Jed knew the bookstore was closed, and...

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Life Is Brief

Posted by in Poetry | 2 comments

Life Is Brief

  Budding and growing in early Spring, shaping, then becoming colors of green. Rustling and holding tight, cooling, then shading in the sunlight. Changing and turning brown in the Fall, floating, then bouncing like a ball. Rolling and sailing in the wind, rising, then gliding once again. Twirling and dancing in the air, landing, then resting somewhere. Understanding and loving being a leaf, Accepting, then knowing life is brief.   March 14, 2020 Lou                          ...

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The Pickup Truck

Posted by in short story | 4 comments

The Pickup Truck

The Pickup Truck Old, rusty, and brown, that’s me. Once long ago, I was a looker before the years got to me. My four tires are nearly slick but patched so many times that it counts as more tread. Sometimes my tires look almost flat, but if you keep airing them up, they’ll get you where you’re going. Lightly pumping my brake pedal will bring you to a nice stop.  Slam on my brake, and I’ll keep on a going. Slam again, and I’ll throw you through the windshield. Being a standard, I have a clutch and a long gear shifter on the floor.  There is a round ball on the top...

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