"I can't," he said. "I'm too shy."
"You can," I told him. "You'll be delicious."
"Oh, OK."
. . . . gulp . . . .
he tasted GREAT.
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May your trails be scenic. May your hay be abundant. May your friends be as nice as me, Songbird Sparrowgrass.Eighteen years of farm life, in order. Pick a year, or search for a name, a place, or a grievance.
Comments
Lol!
Fenway, would you be so kind as to write a poem about my friend Ginger rather than my late love Mike? Though it has been almost a year, I still find it too difficult to verbalize our time together. Just thinking about what to tell you about him has me in pieces. Perhaps later, when I'm more 'normal' about his passing, I can commission another poem??
Ginger is 16 this month, and owns two of the most incredible women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. She was my dog-away-from-home years ago in college, and is simply the coolest thing on 4 legs. Her website is www.yoursavinggrace.org/ginger.html
On an unrelated note, your page is a daily read for us. I make Sara the Appy read it so that she might partake of your mulish wisdom.
Ears,
Fenway