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Those who find themselves in the midst of solitude and loneliness make for good writers, they say...
I quite like the way i have been writing lately.

Discovering the Cradle

Today you held the door ajar
for the very first time
Today you trusted
and let open the flood gates
Today you made me a friend. A confidant.

Today I know of the mind games, the social strains
on a heart so naïve
Of the silent anxieties behind that toothy grin,
Today I understand your need for reassurance
Today I comprehend.
Today I know. You.

To my baby. Mom.

Mr. Right

Finally, I am in love. With a man about three times my father’s age. Yoo-hoo! Am I ashamed? Ah! I feel so proud of my affection towards him I want to shout it out from the rooftops. Tell the world. Blog.

He is black and he's from South Africa. Was in prison for 30 years, charged for sabotage. But take my word for it, he is a great guy! I realized it two decades too late, but nonetheless. Not television, not newspapers, biographies or autobiographies; all it took to fall for his charm was a two hour journey with Eastwood. Punctured only by a tiny popcorn break.

Yup! The Mandela bug has bitten me. And it has bitten me hard.