Tabby cat leaping, little tiger with her prey. She chomps doomed fly, pleased.
Night skies’ diamonds play peek-a-boo with the clouds, gossamer twinkles.
Whom I love, I trust. If trust has fled, is there hate? Or has love died too?
Read one more, Nana. Little head nestled so close. This is happiness.
Glass-packs rumble loud, big engine throbs and vibrates. My Chevelle kicks ass.
Jeneane Behme, 2015