INCONCEIVABLY BLONDE....

A stone keeps on turning in the sand keeps on smoothing, getting glossy in the water swishing 'round back and forth in clouds and sun. A stone keeps on turning in the sand getting smaller, smaller still mixing more into the water swishing 'round back and forth in clouds and sun. A stone keeps on turning in the sand, smoothing, shrinking, drifting down, until it turns into just one, one of  the same same sands that washed it all away under the water and then returns more stones to sand-- sand for water to swish around back and forth in clouds and sun.

Take a long walk in the pouring rain, let your hair spill freely down your back and smell all life that's flowing in your veins awaken in the storming sky's attack. Hold out your hands for those tiny kisses to lick and cool the heartache--and you smile, splashing past the windshield-wipered masses stuck in traffic--makes it all worthwhile. Look between the clouds as sunlight rainbows sparkling color in each falling drop. Amid new puddles children freely frolick, until their mothers scream for them to stop. Close your eyes and let the chilled breeze blush you-- just catch the taste of wet sky on your tongue. no matter if your clothes are soaked right through, they'll dry out as you walk back in the sun. Written by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez February 21, 2012