Quality time with a best friend:
Rebel Without a Cause
Billy Jack
Rear Window
All the President's Men
A trip to Memphis:
Sleeping in a car
Photos, both amateur and 'professional'
Zoo, with lights
Vietnamese food, complete with six fortunes cookies, with a total of three different messages
A layover in Carbondale
Driving in the rain
Sleeping in the rain
Good music
Art for a quarter
Helping a friend and her family:
Move stuff around
Listen
Talk
Eat
Christmas shopping:
The Mall
My personal stress reliever
A ping pong table from trunks to seats
Lactose free ice cream
Nine oreo cookies
A poem:
12.22.2007
a holiday wish
in a holiday themed kitchen
stands a man, slowly peeling apples
in a holiday harried living room
sits a woman, rapidly wrapping presents
as one room slowly fills with
a fluttering scent of sugary sweet cinnamon
another room quickly fills with
a mound of empty boxes tags and bows
I’m tired,
whispers beneath the echoes of scissors slicing shiny paper
while one room is still buzzing with the stress of the holidays
the other room falls silent,
the pot is on,
but the room lay empty
moments pass and the woman is again lost
amongst her busied self
a soft humming can be heard from the distant hallway
and all the while the woman whittles away at her holiday work
the man appears in the entryway
he pauses for a moment to let her notice him
he walks to her, and begins to speak,
All I want for this holiday and
for each one to come, is to be with you.
and in the woman’s hands lay
a small silver box topped with a small silver bow
she looks at him, and as she opens the box
she begins to smile, and begins to cry
Kevin M. Reader
a holiday wish
in a holiday themed kitchen
stands a man, slowly peeling apples
in a holiday harried living room
sits a woman, rapidly wrapping presents
as one room slowly fills with
a fluttering scent of sugary sweet cinnamon
another room quickly fills with
a mound of empty boxes tags and bows
I’m tired,
whispers beneath the echoes of scissors slicing shiny paper
while one room is still buzzing with the stress of the holidays
the other room falls silent,
the pot is on,
but the room lay empty
moments pass and the woman is again lost
amongst her busied self
a soft humming can be heard from the distant hallway
and all the while the woman whittles away at her holiday work
the man appears in the entryway
he pauses for a moment to let her notice him
he walks to her, and begins to speak,
All I want for this holiday and
for each one to come, is to be with you.
and in the woman’s hands lay
a small silver box topped with a small silver bow
she looks at him, and as she opens the box
she begins to smile, and begins to cry
Kevin M. Reader
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