While I Work ...
... I wanted to leave a bit of poetry I wrote two years ago. I'm diligently gnawing on Book #3, and it is giving me headaches. I just think if Satan is throwing up all these roadblocks, then God must have great things in store for the third installment in the Republic series. Until then, enjoy this. Summer is a Memory Summer is grass scratching the soles of my feet as I fly down the hill to the tree swing. It’s dipping my toes in Papa Jim’s swimming pool and watching the water bugs skate across the green water, the sun bleaching my hair and browning my skin as watermelon juice slides down my chin, my sister and my cousins’ laughter drowning out Material Girl on the radio. Summer is an umbrella in hand and water beneath my feet as I splash and stomp in puddles in the pockmarked road. It’s the wind in my hair and my hands in the air as I ride my bicycle to the store just down from Nana’s house, then coming back and laying on bl...