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Word Echo

Words from the past have a distinct echo

Mr Bojangles Junior Mr Bojangles Junior, that is what I called him. The Girl with the Red Hair The girl with the magnificent red hair with an absorbency of rich clarity declaring war against cardboard greys, road worn blues a… Supernova Shuffling his feet, the coyness of him was transparent in his left shoe turned inwards without regret. / There was no confiden… Sunday was a lovely day I wasn’t ready when I lost my Sundays. / I didn’t even know that Sundays could be stolen from you. / It took a while but I’ve adjus… jaw bones Snap. / A word falls from a large bleak jaw bone and it rolls and rolls around. Milk ..… ker-chat ker chat ….. my head barked louder. Coin Tale Ohh…I hope she steps into the sunlight for me. 30 minutes She must tell him that she never thought badly of him for wanting to clean the cat. I like trains I like trains and the tracks people make in their lives, understanding fascinates the watcher. / Thoughts about life, the picnic, the cl… Dad is just out for a while….. I so want to have a natter with dad / To tell him all the funny things I do / About my beautiful son that I adore / The verses that pour ou… The Language of Mudawups They’re better than science fiction chameleons. I dream of Living A beginning of living without Martin. Fish, Chips, Vinegar & Tenure On his bottom lip hung a cigarette a balancing nicotine sea-saw; he could drawback and exhale smoke hands free method. / His hands were in… A dirty story from the past dug up She needed someone with more speed. WAITING I slowly eased out my Blackberry from its holster. The harsh lighting made its gunmetal casing gleam. The room with the broken heart Once upon at time a darling love dreamt here / He would kiss and count all her smiley freckles / One two three four five ten, laugh and sta… Abacus He was skilled in the art of patience, waiting would dig its mulish heels into most but this was not his way. One Sock Yet she wakes and more odd socks. Winter bitch Winter took her gloves off this day. Pathways of destiny “Why are we walking down this road Mummy?” he asked with all the tender innocence of a child who didn’t have any of the ugliness of life t… asleep in words  by Arcadia Tempest Our Story RED BUBBLE WRITING COLLABORATION*** / “Who are you? And where are you?”