Lawnmowerman
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Taken last summer from the boat;
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- Thread starter Lukeee
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hawkia
Sex God
ChickenGuy
Likes cock.
Taken by the crew of Apollo 17 on December 7, 1972.
hotdog1846
To Wed Mr. Clean in Iowa!
hawkia
Sex God
Yes for most of us I guess, but Mom was an English teacherUm ... shouldn't that be a "crick"?
*asks the guy whose ancestors all came from Iowa*
- Joined
- Apr 1, 2003
- Posts
- 14,971
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In loving memory of my beautiful Mum ....
I miss you each and every day, but never more so than at Christmas time.
RIP beautiful lady.
My son wrote this poem when he was just 15, not long after Mum and Dad had both passed away. I cried my heart out when I first read it as he captured so well the spirit of what Christmas was like at Mum and Dad's place. I still get misty eyed every time I read it. It's a beautiful, innocent tribute and I will always treasure it ....
CHRISTMAS AT GRANDMA'S
The dusty air fills the car,
And the worn but cosy house appears.
Cracking paint, maroon corrugated iron roof,
And rusting fences surround the perimeter,
Creating a clashing contrast with the red soil.
We're having Christmas at Grandma's!
My feet burn on the hot cement pavement as we approach the back door.
I walk ever so carefully, avoiding the sharp prickles
that Grandma is forever removing
from her carpet.
The unoiled, aluminium door bursts open with a protesting squeak,
And the fragile figure of Grandma appears,
With joyful yells and hugs and kisses for all.
The searing summer sun highlights the purple tinge in her soft, curly hair.
How does she get it that colour?
Once inside, and the sharp tang of medi-spray fills the air.
My nose responds and I can feel my lungs expand.
Grandad will breathe easily today.
Over by the front window, the grand Christmas tree sparkles,
The same tree resurrected every year,
And the same glowing fairy lights,
Which always flash a thousand thoughts
Of what's to come from Santa.
On top of the fridge the lolly jar beckons,
The irresistible array of jelly snakes, chickos and strawberry creams tempt me,
Just like they do every year.
I love the feel of the soft confectionery as I steal a sly handful,
Then slouch innocently onto the couch.
It's always a fun game,
To try and devour as much as I can,
Before Dad notices and says "No more!"
Grandma, nearby, looks sad.
Christmas morning ...... the house is silent but I am not.
Inside my mind all is excitement and anticipation.
Everything seems so loud, amidst the silence,
But not for long.
Soon it will be silence's turn to be silent,
And generosity, excitement and laughter will prevail.
With the tearing of colourful Christmas wrappings, eyes will widen,
And smiles will spread.
But none bigger than Grandma's,
Her family is together again and she's the happiest girl in the world!
Late afternoon and the aromas of roast dinner begin to fade,
The voices of family members are quieter,
And the batteries of my new toys have almost run out.
It's cooler now and I drift outside, happy in my own thoughts.
I know that this has been
Another special Christmas at Grandma's.
I miss you each and every day, but never more so than at Christmas time.
RIP beautiful lady.
My son wrote this poem when he was just 15, not long after Mum and Dad had both passed away. I cried my heart out when I first read it as he captured so well the spirit of what Christmas was like at Mum and Dad's place. I still get misty eyed every time I read it. It's a beautiful, innocent tribute and I will always treasure it ....
CHRISTMAS AT GRANDMA'S
The dusty air fills the car,
And the worn but cosy house appears.
Cracking paint, maroon corrugated iron roof,
And rusting fences surround the perimeter,
Creating a clashing contrast with the red soil.
We're having Christmas at Grandma's!
My feet burn on the hot cement pavement as we approach the back door.
I walk ever so carefully, avoiding the sharp prickles
that Grandma is forever removing
from her carpet.
The unoiled, aluminium door bursts open with a protesting squeak,
And the fragile figure of Grandma appears,
With joyful yells and hugs and kisses for all.
The searing summer sun highlights the purple tinge in her soft, curly hair.
How does she get it that colour?
Once inside, and the sharp tang of medi-spray fills the air.
My nose responds and I can feel my lungs expand.
Grandad will breathe easily today.
Over by the front window, the grand Christmas tree sparkles,
The same tree resurrected every year,
And the same glowing fairy lights,
Which always flash a thousand thoughts
Of what's to come from Santa.
On top of the fridge the lolly jar beckons,
The irresistible array of jelly snakes, chickos and strawberry creams tempt me,
Just like they do every year.
I love the feel of the soft confectionery as I steal a sly handful,
Then slouch innocently onto the couch.
It's always a fun game,
To try and devour as much as I can,
Before Dad notices and says "No more!"
Grandma, nearby, looks sad.
Christmas morning ...... the house is silent but I am not.
Inside my mind all is excitement and anticipation.
Everything seems so loud, amidst the silence,
But not for long.
Soon it will be silence's turn to be silent,
And generosity, excitement and laughter will prevail.
With the tearing of colourful Christmas wrappings, eyes will widen,
And smiles will spread.
But none bigger than Grandma's,
Her family is together again and she's the happiest girl in the world!
Late afternoon and the aromas of roast dinner begin to fade,
The voices of family members are quieter,
And the batteries of my new toys have almost run out.
It's cooler now and I drift outside, happy in my own thoughts.
I know that this has been
Another special Christmas at Grandma's.
PatFrance71
Porn Star
Some beautiful places of my country :
Lac et glacier d'Arsine
Montgellafrey, Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne
Embrun
And this one : Flashes of lighting on Toronto
Lac et glacier d'Arsine
Montgellafrey, Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne
Embrun
And this one : Flashes of lighting on Toronto
My cat Princess.
