writing, the creative journey and other colorful pieces of life
You kids get off my lawn!
Gnarly fingers gripped around silver barred arms of wheeled walkers, faces set with pursed lips and steely eyes, the trio hobbles towards the exit of the Nursing Home, protesting the third consecutive night's serving of cold mashed potatoes.
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You kids get off my lawn!
Gnarly fingers gripped around silver barred arms of wheeled walkers, faces set with pursed lips and steely eyes, the trio hobbles towards the exit of the Nursing Home, protesting the third consecutive night's serving of cold mashed potatoes.
Post a Comment