Kessling

KESSLING ( a poem by Stardust 8937 –9-29-100 You tell me I can rub my fingers– my palms– on, through, and over your soft, jet-black, almost fur–hair.. And caress, touch, hold onto your shaped head[…]

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At the playground

She showed up at the playground, when I first noticed her. My toddler daughter was playing on the structure with the ropes and slide and stuff right in the middle of the place and there[…]

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