c o T T o N
cotton in the field, eastern arkansas I can see a cotton field Old men working in the mill I can see the load in the trunk of my old blue Oldsmobile I see the tears in my mama’s eyes…
October 11, 2018
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cotton in the field, eastern arkansas I can see a cotton field Old men working in the mill I can see the load in the trunk of my old blue Oldsmobile I see the tears in my mama’s eyes…
Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. — so beautifully worded by Hawthorne
Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. — i don’t know who said that
kine ‘kīn archaic plural of cow Darkness had fallen on the feedlot and in the barns and on a normal evening we would have been up at the house settling in for the night. Preparation for the morning…
and other times, it feels like something is missing i let go of your hand like a wheel on a track the sky was unfolding i’d have fought the world for you call my name and i’ll…
