This is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago, thinking about my childhood: Childhood Crisp warm toast and creamy butter, yellow and gold melts on the tongue rich smoky scent of bacon soft golden eggs sprinkled over with cheese French toast drizzled in warm maple syrup, kitchen sounds and pepper smiles in my heart and rainbows too, multiplication in the morning, my sunshine pliable salt scent of play-doh and sweet waxy crayon, tang of glue on paper tangles of chocolate and cream skin warm and soft at naptime fresh cut grass growing under summer sun, laughter summer breezes through trees, chinking the chains of the swings children chanting slap of rope against pavement drumroll, little feet running down the stairs late summer wind sweeps through corn rustling, rasping in the fields cow moos rumble up from the floor of the valley, swallows dart garden greens and wild berries spring mists in the valley, sun on tin roof Night sounds, whippoorwill and crickets, creak of stairs and rustle of cows in the pasture rhythm of reading at bedtime, rumble of Papa’s voice in his chest the creak of time kept by the rocking chair, and the gentle beat of the heart beneath my cheek. ~LTH

I hope so, now I just have to find someone to have them with!

when i was 11 i traveled with my foster grandparents across the country in a brand new motor home. it was the BEST experience of my miserable childhood