is the right
way, but love doesn't
demand it. Love is recklessly
wronged, but still remains,
These days, it's hard to write much prose.
Tonight is something of a windfall, though. I can't exactly go to bed until the load of vomit-covered bedding comes out of the dryer. Hence the midnight writing time.
This is how it always seems to go. During this season of motherhood, writing happens in the most unexpected ways. I take what I can get.
And usually, what I can get is verse. . . .
You can read the rest here.