Abbe the Writer

Abbe the Writer

I admit that each character flaw is my own. And the stories I tell are how I grow. Imagination is the first stem in seeing more. Without the possible there is no probable. ~Abbe  ...
A Woman’s Hands

A Woman’s Hands

Devoid of all nail-polish. A finish of callouses and cuts, soothed by grease. A woman’s hands hold the child, the groceries. Burns when cooking, soothed by a child’s folded fingers. A woman’s hands, absent of frills, unites in muscled massages, honored by hugs....
Prescription to a Balanced Life

Prescription to a Balanced Life

¼ dose fog, ¼ dos clouds, 5/8 sunshine, 1/8 rainbows. To live only in a fog—removes clarity. Too much sunshine—breeds complacency. Crisp lines—follow the lifting of fog. A dash of rain and sun—colors the world....
In Space

In Space

I’d rather meander on rugged paths than bush-whack my exit. You can’t move forward without an entrance. There is no end. Always in Space....
Grandparents

Grandparents

Our heart muscles stretch to give more, love more. Understand more. Our mind expands. Our lungs inflate. Laughter in our spirit. ...
Kindness

Kindness

Extends further than love. Reaching strangers who power the world. Receptive. Guide with kindness, grace, and music....
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