Notebook

Whenever we go travelling, you can always observe rest stops where ever you go. The old village rest stops that are merely an umbrella shaped construction; older than myself might I add, always excludes a feeling of nostalgia. (nostalgia from other than the fact that these rest stops have become more of a hang out spot for grandmas' and granddads' alike.)    When ever my family and I are on a trip and we see a rest stop any where, " In the olden days..." starts the voice of my father. Throw back time!!  Any way let's hear it shall we: There is a bench, old and abandoned On the side of the road it stands All around it are overgrown weeds, herbs and trees In the middle of a jungle, a man-made thing. It is a contraption, for the lack of better word For rust has eaten away at the metal keeping it tall As for the wood, you can say its old Or just describe it as a termites home. It doesn't look worn, not old from use Just weather beate...

Let's get this started with a little poem I wrote on what "Young me"(I say as if I am centuries old) would fight till death to declare was the hottest day on the planet earth. Being a person who has lived in a relatively mild climate-ed (is that even a word?) place forever( I again say as if that's a long time) I can't stand heat.  Many people love the summer and to that I say," to each their own."  No summer has just never been my thing from excessive sweating, to ugly heat rashes, to frizzy, uncontrollable hair due to the humidity; it's safe to say summer (sigh) has never found a loving home in me. Honestly, if "young me" experienced the summers of today (phew); a melted human might have had to been dealt with.  Any who enjoy; if nothing else another's suffering due to a disgustingly warm day. Warm, warm it's so hot My ice-cream is melting down Tan darker than an espresso Popsicles a puddle on the ground Taking...