All stories,matter they are the history of a great nation
Four Forty two pm,
No doubt Winters near its start,
Phone fell,
Not a call,
But call was dropped,
Ruth heard me and spoke,
Ruth was my Marko Polo,
The phone slender as a scrawny modle,
It slips right through the side of the chair,
I stood on my head,
I got on one knee,
Bent forward as far as I could,
Found a knarly fork,
Fork last used in the Crusades,
Ruth still spoke,
My fingers reached it,
No good slide completely through,
I was sure it was lost,
Forever!
Val Whitewolf Go live on TikTok everyday. Two emails valheikewhitewolf@gmail.com and valwhitewolfpoet@gmail.com only one. I've written every day for over 500 Days but I didn't notice that I've had 11 days you can keep your virtual things so you mean nothing to me I know how many times I've written Val Heike pen and spirit animal Whitewolf .. https://www.tiktok.com/@valheikewhitewolf?_t=8i4NOlqQ9nC&_r=1 View more posts
Val Whitewolf