Shadows Of The Past Spanish moss blowing in the wind as it hangs from spectral limbs, reaching out in evenings failing light, all encompassing ambience of the night's arrival, calls to mind how the shadows of my past and the future of my grandchildren are entertwined. Somewhere in the middle am I,... Sign in to see full entry.
From The Past:
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Stories once (twice, or thrice) already told, erased, and replaced for posterity, and just in case any new people at Blogit might like to read.
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