Makes me wonder where the phrase, "grim reaper" came from. Off to find out, nice write.

Thanks, ladies........Cup-a'Green Teaaaaa, anyone?

It's okay, Ms. T-Bear, sometimes, it's hard for me to look too (I do sooooo lUV that pic!)

Thanks, Faded - Damn, it's good to see you - we had a great time playing with this one, although thinking back; we probably looked like Mexican jumping beans playing musical chair with one of us bouncing off the chair in front of the computer and the other sliding on from the other side to take over and fix a glitch or fill a space or whatever, lol.

Kace, ROFLMAO -- you know darn well, I'll get both flowers no matter how you hand 'em out.

oo-Abra, earth tones and pistols - excellent choice.....Different kind, indeed!

mmmm, I think you brought the elegance in here with you, but works for me as --- maybe, just maybe --- some'll rub off on me. I look forward to delivering your special delivery to Marc and will do so with care (ahhh, we both know me better than that!) - okay, I'll enjoy it immensely, lol!

Destiny’s Debt

A long legged filly from Texas,
A cowgirl riding fast with a colt at her side.
Husband’s hat pulled low and death in her eyes.

Her shooting skill
Had been honed
In the ashes of love’s flame.

Her thirst for vengeance
Urged her lathered horse’s hooves
To fly as if evading hell’s crippling teeth.

Her taskmaster, death,
Was in no gentle mood this day
Driving her on in her race with grief‘s grip.

Clattering into another Mexican town,
She immediately spied the spotted rump
Of a familiar appaloosa tied outside the saloon.

Her eyes cloud over
Remembering that very horse riding away
From the main street of her past.

Six weeks had gone by
since she laid her man to rest
in the small town of Destiny;
her small town sheriff
shot in the back
And left to die in the street.

South of the border,
She’d followed that spotted skunk’s trail.
That young man with a jagged mouth
And greasy pock marked complexion.
Using his gun to steal fame
With no care towards redemption.

Her horse, snorted and stamped
Pulling her out of her reverie.
She grimly dismounted and prayed silently.

Standing in the doorway
with the setting sun at her back, 
all that could be seen from within

---- Was a long -----
----- Tall ----- shadow--
Silent as sin.

Against the bar he stood
a drink in one hand.
Slowly he turned, that pocked marked man.

He was fast to clear leather
But faster was she.
As he hit the floor, bowed on one knee,

Death’s shadow rode off.
Tall in the saddle
With a sober grin,

The angel rides home
Purged of the life she had lived.
Destiny’s sheriff -- born again.

mt/law 9/09

Thunder and lightning
stuck in a storm.
Will you E-merge
or hold fast to your "norm"?

Pick one or the other.
Quickly, make your choice.
or
Heaven forbid, you walk between worlds
within them.


Odd, yet appropriate? The ways of the wyrd!

Hmmmm, on reflection, "Dealer's Choice"

I hold this clay
Lovingly in my hands
That I may mold it into another form.

Pinching, squeezing,
Chiseling you into what I seek.

A form of creation
Your state of blankness
Exhibits growing beauty to my eyes.

I constantly knead and re-knead you
Into any shape I momentarily desire.

Energy transfer miraculously happens.
You become you.
Magically infused with heart, mind, and soul.

I walk away from my creation.
Now is the time of your choices,
You now become the creator of you.

What will you project?

Very well done --- Yeah, nice tease!!!!

Bittersweet.

Gambler's Choice

oo-oo!

"soon" Oh yes, may it be soon in earth time. Universal time ----- deep faith and un-be-liev-able patience required.

Hermione Granger - most definitely, I agree!

Nicely done, I never realized we were poor growing up. My sister categorically pointed it out to me long after we were grown. Still amazes me how "rich" is defined by perceptions.

Tanya! Freakishly ookishly Awe-some. I didn't include you in my write because you----well simply put, I can't describe you in words. You are like a fine wine or a cooling refreshing lemonade and must be experienced individually.