Dont Deny








Can I be your friend…please

Can you not hate me anymore

I’m sorry for the idiocracy

Of my youngin days

But do you believe

That people change Continue reading


Apple Orchards and Log Cabins


When I was a young girl, my parents worked on an apple orchard in Michigan. I can slightly remember the time there. Combining my memory with the stories my mother has shared, I get a good picture of what life was like. My brother was just a baby; and I recall the baby swing where he sat swinging the day away. My parents had the really big ladders that would reach the top of the apple trees. Only the men used the ladders, the women, like my mother and aunty, were responsible for picking the apples on the lower parts of the trees. Sometimes you would hear “Timberrrrrr” as one of the male workers went crashing down with the ladder. Continue reading