Mr Frosty

We were working through it all.

It was hard enough telling a six year old about why daddy still lived in their old house while mommy lived over on Maple Avenue with the mustached jerk who use to prepare our taxes.

Much less trying to get up at six to make sure her backpack was filled with all of the right books and peanut oil-free snacks.

But I was just about there.  I could feel the sleep.

My eyes were staying closed and my breathing was getting thicker and heavier with every minute.  I was being dragged down into the black hole that is sleep when suddenly it began.

Soft at first.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)