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Like a campfire billowing its smoke in the wind, my mouth waters with emusement. pillows of sweet cream between two grams of sweet honey, made for your enjoyment with the luscious rich soothing chocolate that only a roasting of smoars and some good friends can provide.
Humidity rises, and the kids attend with their parents to the fair to cool off. Not far is the ice cream man, his little jingle sounds, the music begins to play, for a small fee you can have moon beams of delight upon your tongue, and relax in the cloudy weather.
News paper articles, with ink jet pen in hand, underlining the un important people in headlines, as the crumbs of stale lays potao chips fall to the floor, crumbling in my hand, do we understand that these quote on quote un important people lived a life of purpose to God. As these onion stains on my pants leave the grease of the hell that these people's grief is now a loss in a un noticed picture in the obituaries.
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