The Transcendent Trope

Her tea shop offers the finest loose leaves bundled in worldly weighs. Madame Emille, I believe was her name, also owned an exquisite chocolate shop in a well-trodden alley. Vivid silver threads fizzled through her course black hair and bare feet peeked out of a floor-length red dress. I never met her, but the smokyContinue reading “The Transcendent Trope”

Middle-Aged Lady Rap

I’m a midnight grinder, a shamrock finder, got a calendar, don’t need a reminder. I’m built Ford tough, edges rough, whenever I’m hot springin’ it’s in the buff. I down my steak rare, am a baller at foursquare, you better believe I oppose the electric chair. I’ve never had a gallstone, send messages via Iphone,Continue reading “Middle-Aged Lady Rap”

A Spot Of Tea?

The juice supplying creativity amounts to barely a drop; if served in a saucer, a mouse would say, “What kind of restaurant is this?” and then throw it to the floor. Not enough for the smallest vermin, not enough for me.  The heater sounds like someone’s holding a note far past their lung’s capacity. IContinue reading “A Spot Of Tea?”