The majority of life is spent seeking beauty amid the ordinary.
We are less likely to hate close up.
Silently holding the hand of one grieving speaks.
What are baby pickles made from?
“Everything you can imagine is real.” ~Pablo Picasso
Her Father’s Child
She was just a little tyke,
Six or seven, I guess
The kind you often see
With too old, too long a dress.
Her hair was straight, the color
of too hot, too dry sand.
Her walk was the walk of a soldier,
Her hand in her father’s hand.
Her eyes so clear, so beautiful,
The brightest star would dim;
Eyes used for both of them,
For she was leading him.
~Dana B. Nelson