No Pick Up Line Required

Playing guitar

University residence party 1970.

Long haired and bearded guitar player at the bottom of the stairs looks up at me and asks if I have any requests.

Do you know Gentle on my Mind? First thing that pops into my head.

He strums something unrecognizable. Shifts the instrument, starts again. Stops. Looks up at me with a shrug and a brilliant smile.

Guess not.

It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.

The simple sweet beginning.

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My Littlest Neighbor

Little Miss Megan of the house next door,

Talking, talking, rarely stopping, loving being four.

Sitting on her doorstep, laughing with her dolls;

Pretending she can’t  hear her when her mother calls and calls.

Running in the sunshine, splashing in the rain,

Affixing many many things to pony’s rainbow mane.

Busy, busy, busy girl, full of spunk and sass,

Chalking up the sidewalk, turning cartwheels on the grass.

Such pretty princess finery for dressing up in style!

Little Miss Megan of the million dollar smile.

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