Behind the woodshed.... for Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Don't rush me. Don’t rush me. I am sick. I don’t move quickly As you do. Don’t rush me. I can not move easily As I once did. Don’t rush me. It makes breathing hard. Don’t rush me. I feel ashamed That I can not do easily All the things that I could once do At the drop of a hat. Don’t rush me. I feel your embarrassment At being seen with me. Don’t rush me. I feel trapped and alone. ~Therese Anne Schmidt~ Sign in to see full entry.

My Shy Shiloh My Shy You saunter so. Big yellow eyes Oh so fierce Set in your little black face So sweet Your little mouth White and set. One minute Sweet, playful, and bouncy. Suddenly feisty The next second. My Shy, Such a cat. Truly loved ~Therese Anne Schmidt~ Sign in to see full entry.

YOU I have beautiful, naturally curly, black hair. I sometimes run my tiny fingers through it though. I did it at breakfast one morning awhile ago. My friends and I were talking and eating slow. The two of you by yourselves at the next table. Our laughter must have made you irritable. Was it jealousy that we were lighthearted and didn't include “the untouchables”? “Don't do that!” you screamed. “We don't want YOUR dandruff and head lice in OUR FOOD!” She looked at you with pride as her ugly,... Sign in to see full entry.