He bumped his head and went to bed and couldn't get up in the morning.
It is raining the sound of petals hit leaves and the wind gushes and whooooooshes and it reminds me of a poem I once read...what seems like a life time ago, but, can it be?, it was only last year.
You with cat and leaf and blueberries.
You with poem and pen(cil) and quilt.
You with kick and bike and boyfriend.
Must it always rain for me to think of you?
Life was simpler when we ate lunchables.
