My momma worries.
I keep telling her I’m good.
She can’t help it though.
Poem, Day 8
Out late on Day 8, so this is one, in barely by the skin of my teeth. I’m keeping it super simple yet true.
Day 8
valaida
musings of an idea whisperer
My momma worries.
I keep telling her I’m good.
She can’t help it though.
valaida 