It’s fantastic, Brenda.

The whole piece is great but that opening line is magic.
It also reminds me of the movie Dune.
The desert sands look so smooth and soft.
My older son told me once they remind him of butter. lol

Mark and I had a conversation today about the Sahara desert and how years ago it had an oasis.
How time and the earth can shift!

I think I’m inspired now to write about the desert!
You rock chica!
Thanks for all of your inspiration!

Cool stuff, Brenda. I like the imagery that you pulled together. It has an almost looming presence overwatching it.
Great ideas you put together here.

Powerfully penned, Brenda. Excellent write with amazing imagery my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

We can all relate to traffic being a rat race. I have always dreaded big city interstates.
One wrong move and you are stuck there for hours. And that’s if you are lucky.
Something about this write makes me wonder if my boys ever studied me in traffic when they were younger.
I enjoyed the read.

Brilliantly penned, Thomas. Excellent write, you’re such a natural storyteller and are able with your amazing imagery to make me feel like I’m watching from the backseat my friend. A great read brother, nicely done. Appreciate you.

Damian

That silent observation of internal conversations is such a profound moment. Terrified in the backseat…I often feel that way about life these days. I have a friend whose grandmother used to drive us around in the backseat of her old green paneled station wagon, having full conversations in her head. But her half was audible. We never knew when she was addressing us or them. Took me back to those rides with this.

This took me back a good few years .. or yonks as we say this side of the pond .. thanks for the ride Thomas .. Neville

I couldn’t help but think of an old neighbor I had when I was young. He would drive me and his son and daughter to school up the street. Thank God it wasn’t far. He would talk as though we weren’t there and every once in a while hit the brake when someone pulled up to the corner of a street waiting to pull out. I couldn’t wait to get out. 🙂 Great story, Thomas.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

What a grand and deeply emotional memory of your Dad at the wheel with all his inner angst haunting him while you his passengers held on for dear life. Truly a great ride of a freeway poem that made for an exhilarating read. Enjoyed this journey through time and the highway. You painted an exquisite portrait of your Dad here my friend.

John

Thank you. Much appreciated.

Passionately penned, Brenda. Amazing write my friend. I saw Rob Zombie with Fear Factory in concert in 1998. Great show. Appreciate you.

This is sweat and stage-light devotion—desire roaring through amplifiers and shaking your ribs.
You kneel to the myth but keep your edge; the hunger is raw, but the awe is real.

This is excellent Fia!
Well done chica:)

Nah, I identify as a scraggly ol pine tree. LOL. But I love the sentiment expressed in this write! It is very clever with the ideas and imagery. it gives us hope!

hello lovely Fia someday we’ll be brand new again this is beautifully written ❤️

Beautifully penned, Fia. This is a lovely write my friend, always a fan of your musings. Appreciate you, cuz.

Damian

Oh damn, girl! This is a brilliant piece of writing. Not only the idea of roses, but each stage and facet of their existence…and we are indeed like them! 🌹

It’s a shame we can’t be new roses longer. We get older and look back at how we could have dome things better. But alas, we start to wilt and time goes on until we are dust once again. Good one Fia.

My grandmother (my mom’s mom) had rose bushes in her backyard and roses often found their way onto the dinning room table. I would help her sometimes with weeding and tilling the soil around the bushes. It was a fun job getting my hands dirty and listening to her tell stories of her life. Your poem reminded me of her and some pieces of my younger self came alive as I read. I think Fia, if we keep those memories in our minds we are always young for they make us who we have become.

Thanks for sharing this tender poem, Fia
-Curt

This is quite a refreshing piece.

My Grandma was called Rose and I was named after her.

I admire your connection to nature and the surroundings.

I find this exquisite and delicate in its own way.

Peaceful and pleasant read. x