I move my sleeping son
I try to crouch in the middle
With my arms around my little one
He has somehow miraculously missed
Me this time
I can’t sleep
Once again I am out
I am gone
As the rustle of his red
Camaro leaves us one more time.
THE REST IS HERE:
http://lorijeanswritings.writersresidence.com/samples/memories-on-the-run
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