Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 190

For this week’s prompt, write an appointment poem. Could be a doctor’s appointment, an appointment with a literary agent, or a dentist’s appointment (which is enough to get my boys scared stiff). Don’t miss your appointment with poetry this week. Poem, poem, poem!

Here’s my attempt at an appointment poem:


We meet beneath the stars, though we call them
daggers reminding us why we sneak out
in the first place. This park, with its swings and
silence, keeps us shielded from our parents–
so afraid we’ll repeat their mistakes they
hold us apart in the day, but now we
have our chance to play and now we have our
chance to play. Now we have our chance to play.


Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer


Learn how to blog professionally!

Digital maven Meredith Barnes leads this webinar on how to blog with a purpose and build a following for your writing, whether you write fiction, nonfiction, poetry, or writing for children! Learn how in Author Blogs: How to Get Started in This Platform Essential.

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

149 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 190

  1. taylor graham


    A week of scissors cutting fabric, circuits
    of standing/turning while Mother pins up hems;
    the practicing of lines: “Sad Philomel,”
    she has trouble with the f-and p-sounds, “pours forth…
    Plaint’s” – the word’s a canyon between her
    and Pageant-day, her appointment
    with the stage. At bedtime, by glow of night-
    light she dons her cardboard head-dress,
    jewels of the crown in every precious color
    of cough drops from the drugstore shelf.
    Nightingale Princess, white chrysanthemums
    already wilted with anticipation.

  2. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Meet Me Tomorrow
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Meet me tomorrow
    at my favorite berry patch
    with pail and leather gloves in hand,
    berry time rolls round but once a year,
    I shan’t miss out this time.
    Oh no, I shan’t miss out this time.

    Raspberries, Logans, Marions too
    Boysens, Himalayas, and Evergreens,
    Blackcaps, Black Butte,
    Black Diamonds, Black Pearls,

    my State’s berries rules all!
    Chehalem, Olallie,
    and Metolius
    Cascade, Pacifica,
    and Siskiyou,
    there’s a reason Oregon’s the leading
    commercial producer in the world!

    Some are thornless
    while others pack a wallop
    some tart, some sweet, off the vine
    full of fiber and anti-oxi’s, and
    enough nutrients to choke a bear,
    they’ll tolerate poor soil
    colonize ditches & vacant lots
    feed birds, caterpillars and deer
    then turn right around with their
    deep purple black, woodsy flavor
    spoon into our mouths
    pies, jams, and cobblers
    salads and smoothies
    ice cream and muffins
    the size of a Pinata!

    So meet me tomorrow
    at my favorite berry patch
    with pail and leather gloves in hand,
    berry time rolls round but once a year,
    and I shan’t miss out this time as I’ve
    a date with some blackberry wine!

    © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  3. tunesmiff

    (c) 2012 – G. Smith (BMI)
    I’ll meet you then,
    I’ll see you there,
    When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
    We’ll spend our days,
    In joyful praise,
    When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.

    There’ll be no sorrow,
    We’ll cry no tears;
    There’ll be no worries,
    We’ll have no fears.

    There’ll be no sickness,
    Nor heartache and pain;
    When Jesus comes to meet us,
    He’ll call us all by name.

    So,I’ll meet you then,
    I’ll see you there,
    When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
    We’ll spend our days,
    In joyful praise,
    When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.

    That lame will walk,
    The blind will see;
    The deaf will hear the trumpet sound,
    The prisoner’s will go free.

    We’ll stand hand in hand,
    With those we’ve loved,
    Who’ve gone on before us,
    To be with Jesus up above.

    So I’ll meet you then,
    I’ll see you there,
    When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
    We’ll spend our days,
    In joyful praise,
    When Jesus calls to meet us in the air;
    When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.

  4. Bruce Niedt

    I guess mine is a “non-appointment” poem. Once again I used the the Sunday Whirl’s weekly Wordle challenge and incorporate a bank of twelve words into my poem: last, nine, final, refresh, gassed, line, number, evidence, bare, smooth, shift, gear.

    August Vacation

    Last leg of the nine-hour drive,
    final fling of the summer –
    pull into the rest stop
    to refresh – bathroom break,
    a cold drink – get the car gassed up,
    check the map one more time.
    Hit the interstate again –
    stay alert, don’t let the white lines
    mesmerize you. Let the numbers
    tick on the odometer, evidence
    that you’re farther from home.
    All your appointments are behind you,
    day-planner forgotten on your desk,
    its blocks for next week left bare.
    Put on your cruise control
    prepare for a smooth arrival,
    downshift and stay in that lower gear
    for at least seven days.

  5. Ann M

    Last Day of Summer

    It’s come to this
    the last day of summer
    when the blue moon has fallen
    and the storm has passed.
    Yesterday the flood receded,
    leaving raw new gullies
    and fallen frames,
    but this morning is bright
    and it’s time for you to go.

  6. Michele Brenton

    Last appointment.

    And here we are.
    It was always going to be this moment
    No getting away from it.
    Under all I did
    everyone I knew,
    all the love, hate, indifference,
    you were waiting.

    You are the definitive inexorable,
    fate accomplished;
    the line drawn under

    I hear my family crying,
    I know they will survive.
    I hope they know how much I love them.
    But now it is our time.

  7. Kayfay

    As long as it’s not an appointment with doom,
    I look forward to walking into any room.
    But an appointment with my pillow
    is always the best.
    I have no idea what waits on the other side
    to jolt my memory, give me fair warning,
    or play tricks on my mind.
    Will it be travel, new friends, meeting Hollywood stars,
    fearful sights, or a night I can fly?
    As long as I can keep reality in check,
    this is one appointment I like best.

  8. DanielAri

    Commitments to Oneself Can Be The Loosest

    My client is too flexible, too nice.
    There’s such a thing as being tractable
    to a fault. I’ve rescheduled more than thrice,
    screwed the agenda, trashed the timetable,
    and generally made work unworkable.
    I wonder if I’m going to pay a price,
    or if what’s still gotten done will suffice
    to keep the whole endeavor viable.

    The problem is we’re both creatives, and
    things get done without meeting—or meaning.
    Separately, we follow our distractions:
    I play turn after turn of Words With Friends
    while, on the other side, I roam, gleaning
    a poem from these random meditations.

  9. cstewart


    I have an appointment with myself,
    One that I have been avoiding,
    In time, for the sake of time.
    The visitor I am greeting
    Is one of great patience
    And has a countenance of softness.

    This person is kind and staid
    Full of wisdom and good nature,
    Understanding and great mirth.
    She is the tree upon which
    I climb and swing upside down
    In the summer sun, counting birds.

  10. missab5

    Of all the days
    to be running late
    my mind is in a haze
    unable to contemplate
    what I am about to do.

    An audition to be a guide.
    I must let my public speaking fear
    Step out of my box to appear

    In my opinion it went horrible
    well at least in part.
    It may have been deplorable
    but full of heart

    Maybe next time
    I will be ready
    perhaps with a rhyme
    on feet steady.
    What a break through.

  11. SharoninDallas


    The words were gone! The hour was late.
    Please, God, don’t seal my fate.

    She coaxed, she wrote, she smiled, she explained.
    A bit of tea and a bite of scone and Mimi the friend,
    The petite francaise, Mimi the editor was done.

    The pages scooped up with my heart-felt good-bye.
    But somewhere on the street they must lie.
    Perhaps by Mouffetard; by Port Royale no more!
    I had already stepped through my apartment door.

    The words were gone! The hour was late.
    Please, God, don’t seal my fate.

    In my hard metal chair I sat, ready for the vagaries of French
    History to get at. Not one page, not two, not three or four.
    No, twenty pages of French by hand were no more.

    The words were gone! The hour was late!
    Please, God, don’t seal my fate.
    God, are you there? Can you help me through?
    It’s due tomorrow. What can I do?
    I raised my head from silent prayer. Oh how did I start?
    First sentence where are you? Which quote? Which page?
    What book are you in? If I find you I can begin.

    The words were gone! The hour was late!
    I raised my head, my eyes were guided by fate.
    To the first book where they fell
    The words came rushing out of my pen in a swell.
    Twenty pages in one fell swoop. From memory,
    In French, twenty pages, reproduced.

    The words had been gone. The hour was late.
    But I had learned that God is great.

      1. SharoninDallas

        Thank you, Marie. Yes, It is true. I “ran away” to Paris when I was 40 to get my MA in French. It was so hard to make my brain crank out those papers. I was hysterical when I realized I had lost my paper. I had books open all over my table in a panic, trying to figure what to do. And yes, after praying, my eyes fell on the right book with the quote I had used in the first paragraph of my paper, and I recalled it all to memory and wrote it again by hand; non-stop. A small thing maybe. But it is an answered prayer I will never forget.

  12. PassionateQuill

    The early evening dew
    crept up blades of grass
    and crawled across the rock wall
    beneath me as I waited. I waited
    for what seemed hours
    with breath short in my chest,
    rustling the autumn leaves above
    with each respiration.
    The moon
    peered low beneath wisps of clouds
    waiting as well to see if you’d really come.
    Though at your silhouette’s promenade
    I’m certain,
    the stars began to shine,
    for the first time.

  13. taylor graham


    I’d go with you but it’s so long a drive. I’d go
    but shade keeps winking under oaks. The sheep
    are sleeping and the dog’s awake, the wagon’s
    resting on its rusty spokes, and honey bees
    are goldening their hive. I’d go with you, if just
    for old-times’ sake. But I’ve appointments,
    there’s so much to do – I’ve got a date with
    summer. Mother Earth is spinning sunbeams,
    and the sky is blue. A poem calls me for a stanza

  14. PKP

    The Best Laid Plan

    Perhaps it was
    a morphine misunderstanding
    when he came home
    from hospital
    dressed in a fresh
    short cotton robe
    and slipped like a
    letter into an envelope

    Crisp white linens
    arranged with as
    much precision
    as a king of ancients
    piled upon
    heaps of creased
    white pillows
    sunshafts playing
    the silver threads
    in his black hair

    Perhaps it was
    a morphine
    that when he looked
    about the room from
    face to loving face
    he would simply
    royally nod,
    close his eyes
    and thus signaled

    On his terms
    his time
    rather than
    open his eyes
    time after time
    through eleven days
    and eleven nights
    to ask with

    Whispered wonder
    whirling into
    imperial impatience
    “Why – am – I – still – here?”

    Morphine misunderstanding
    Or grand finale

    His heart danced, dipped
    and leapt again
    For eleven days and
    Eleven nights

    She sung
    Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
    Magic of the Night, Bring Him Home,
    I Dreamed A Dream, Summertime
    In a continuous loop
    until her throat rang rasped raw

    Combed his hair with cologne
    wet his lips with balm
    walked to the edge of
    the abyss with him
    watched from behind
    his shoulders at him seeing
    the Universe spread
    infinitely before him
    poised to step off

    Only to be returned
    Again, and again and again
    Rested with the crescendo
    of Sibeilus, Tchaikowsky,
    crashing the walls of her
    mind as he raised graceful
    arms and conducted
    in silent connected concert


    the sudden scent of apricots
    filled the room

    And he smiled
    the smile of kings
    and left on a sigh
    reconciled and forgiven


  15. PKP

    Just A Regular Appointment

    Routine –
    they planned on lunch

    Routine –
    just a rule out

    these things almost
    always benign

    Unless they’re not

  16. Walt Wojtanik


    Time and tide were kept waiting
    while you stood, debating whether
    your heart and mind were of the kind
    to join forces. As a matter of course
    you quit horsing around and bound
    down dressed in your finest; the nines
    and then some. And you come
    to the decided place. Your face drops
    and your stop in your tracks.
    This meeting lacks ambiance
    and allure. But mostly, it lacks her.

  17. PowerUnit

    My tooth fell apart.
    It exploded into my carrot
    like the carrot was a tooth sucking vacuum cleaner
    It didn’t hurt but my mind felt future pain
    of steel drills and dentist bills
    of talking like Elmer Fudd in my morning chat with my boss
    of not eating crunchy food until the moment of suffering
    repairs my bite
    restores my fight

  18. Connie Peters

    Writing Day

    My computer’s calling, I feel like bawling
    I’d like to go on a trip
    To stick to my vocation, I need some motivation
    This day, I’d like to skip

    The stories need writing, should be exciting
    But I just want to play
    My readers are waiting, anticipating
    Or stay in bed all day

    I’ll stick these words together, though they could sound better
    My hubby’s soon coming home
    What did you write today, he will probably say
    Well, at least, I wrote a poem.

  19. addi22


    When time will be finally due
    I’m more then sure, he’ll be there, too.
    We’ll talk and smile and laugh.
    We’ll be relaxed and fun, maybe even wild.

    Meanwhile, each of us will test
    the field of truth and trust
    to see if our little appointment
    was appropriate and worth.

    Adriana Dascalu

  20. seingraham

    Get Me to the Work on Time

    This winter morn the roads
    Are almost un-navigable and
    I am grateful for my four-wheel drive
    As I plow through fresh snow
    Tracing a new route to work
    Sluicing between curbed monsters
    Really just parked cars but so
    Snow-covered and socked in
    As to be indistinguishable as such

    Every day’s an adventure
    In my view; I don’t like traffic
    Or the stop and go of intersections
    And challenge myself to find side-streets
    And alleys that permit me to just keep
    Going with very little braking
    The only pre-requisite is that I make
    My appointment, get to work on time

  21. Domino

    I Have an Appointment

    My appointment is with my pillow
    and that book I’ve been meaning to read.

    It is with that tub of hot water and bubbles
    and with the candlelit bathroom and my loofah.

    It is with a certain souvenir mug with
    the picture of the Yellowstone bear
    and with a quantifiable amount of cocoa
    with whipped crea
    and a sprinkle of cinnamon..

    My appointment is with me
    because I am just as valuable
    to me
    as anyone else in my life.

    Diana Terrill Clark

  22. Nancy Posey

    Running Late

    “It’s appointed once for man to die. . . “
    (For Pop, 12-17-13—8-26-12)

    He somehow failed to show up, packed,
    ready to go back in the fall of eighty-eight.
    The signs were right, the symptoms clear,
    but his heart keep plugging away.

    The angels charged with transport
    may have lollygagged, failing
    to complete their task, or found another
    more willing, more ready for the journey.

    So when he kept working, driving, reading,
    his body followed orders, his mind
    stayed clear of cobwebs, the bones
    the joints , though rusty, held beneath his skin.

    As he saw others go, he wondered
    if he’d been forgotten by those couriers,
    though certainly not by others here,
    children, grandchildren, greats stopped by.

    Sometimes the young men plumbed
    the depths of his experience, transformed
    on the crucible of his life into wisdom.
    Younger women—younger at least than he–

    charged with watching him, would tell him
    secrets, share their hopes, their sorrows.
    He loved the little children best, circling
    his hall, toddling behind his walker, unafraid.

    When finally they came again to call,
    requiring his attendance elsewhere,
    that majestic roll call, as he lifted
    out of that shell in which he’d lived,

    he stretched his arms and legs,
    he heard music clearly, even whispers;
    he glimpsed familiar faces, smoother
    now, and asked his escort, “Why so late?”
    Did I miss my appointment or did you?”

    1. seingraham

      What a sweet, lovely poem of a man’s life and willingness to let go naturally … I really like this Nancy and take it, it’s based on fact? Wonderfully written especially so soon after the event, I applaud the tribute and the courage. I bet he’s tickled wherever he is …

    2. mich

      Nancy, you are in my thoughts. We share in this celebration of a loved one’s life. Less than a month past, my mother’s attendance was required elsewhere too. I loved the line – majestic roll call.

  23. Jane Shlensky

    Seasonal Truce

    They fight from spring through summer,
    zooming and dodging over blooms and feeders,
    but when autumn pinches the air,
    they swarm together around the nectar
    to refuel for the long flights south,
    cooperative at last until they arrive
    and set up old rivalries on new ground.
    The urgency of rendezvous is hotwired
    into their tiny selves from beak to tail feather,
    from whirring wing to wing,
    a date with survival, with instinct,
    with a winter home far from here.

    1. Domino

      They come to Arizona, many of them, and they have such fiery little hearts, don’t they? We had a hummer build a nest in the wind-chimes next to the feeder one year. Those babies were SO TINY!! ^_^

      I love this Jane.

  24. Marianv

    An appointment waiting…

    A date, we hope we never learn
    our journey into eternity
    We hope that we won’t be alone
    We know there is no way to see —

    Death’s darkest image might
    blind us all until the time
    when with all our loved ones we reunite
    In that unknown bright morning shine.

  25. julie e.


    I’m surprised

    as my eyelids capture color iridescent

    on a crinkled canvas no longer smooth

    and the hand holding the shadow brush

    is my grandmother’s, not my own.

    I was surprised yesterday

    and I’ll be surprised tomorrow

    but in my heart I’m eighteen

    and barefoot in a field of

    Queen Anne’s lace.

    1. Jane Shlensky

      Oh, this so reminds me of my mother seeing her reflection in a mirror and wondering who that old woman was. She said, “Well, in my heart I’m a size 9 with good legs.” I just love your bear feet in a field of Queen Anne’s lace. Lovely imagery.

  26. Michelle Hed


    Feeling uninspired
    I let my fingers walk
    reading where they step
    and the letters that they talk.

    My mind wanders
    floating out the door
    putting groceries in the cart
    as my mind hovers around the store.

    I need to write some prose
    or even a poem or two,
    it’s Wednesday once again
    but my mind doesn’t know what to do.

    So here it is
    my poem for the day.
    While my mind was shopping,
    my fingers came out to play.

  27. claudsy

    Appointment with Life

    We came together,
    You and I,
    When I barely
    Knew life existed,
    Before I first
    Recognized breath
    As belonging to me,
    When things abandoned
    Me forever by leaving
    Rooms I occupied.
    We came together,
    You and I,
    In this capsule
    Called experience.
    We have a date,
    You and I,
    That extends itself
    Forever onward;
    A date called Growth–
    Of worldly knowledge,
    But most of all,
    Of spirit and understanding.

  28. Anne

    Be –
    leave me now,
    I’m running late, can’t wait,
    cannot stop, for-
    give my selfish sin-
    gle-minded, full-divided, lost attention span –
    I’m a multi-tasking, thanks for asking,
    neverlasting, late-for-a-date woman.

  29. De Jackson


    Meet me
    in the moonlight
    when the tide’s right
    and she spills her diamonds
    loose; lace your fingers through
    my hair and stare out
    over this wave-woven place
    we both belong;
    whisper breeze and stir
    these trees
    into a shivered song.


  30. ChristineA


    I’m running late as usual.
    Your stare from the corner of the living room serves a constant reminder.
    Though you’re not far away,
    Week after week I am missing you
    Mentally rescheduling our rendezvous
    In favor of work, errands, dishes, anything but-
    This is one meeting I cannot postpone forever.
    At some point, I will need to fold my laundry.

  31. laurie kolp


    A TV in the examining
    room sends a message-
    LONG WAIT, a normal
    expectation for a doctor’s
    office, yet you hope
    to escape such a fate.

    Three cooking channel shows
    later, an affair with impatience
    embattles your mind and you
    dream of being free from this
    torturous bind so you open
    the door, peek into the hall-

    you thought – you thought, but
    you screamed those words,
    slammed the door for
    as the ad-
    Nadia G’s Bitchin’ Kitchen
    flashes in front of your eyes
    and you dream of sushi.

    1. PKP

      Terrific – there’s something inexplicably powerful about the “dream of sushi” that perfectly captures the impatience even more powerfully than the power of the peek and the slamming door….BRAVO

  32. Imaginalchemy

    “Too Many Appointments!”

    Too many appointments to keep!
    No time to pencil in sleep,
    Maybe squeeze in a 5 second lunch,
    Trapped in the teeth of a time crunch,
    Too many appointments to keep!

    Many I can fit in a moment of rest
    Between my 1:00 meeting and 1:30 test?
    No, I have to make phone calls then,
    Otherwise I don’t know when
    I’ll have time to finish this mess.

    Oh, if only there were a blank slot
    In my appointment book’s daily plot
    Wait, there’s one…between 10 and 11
    P.M., one hour of unscheduled heaven,
    Oh, no, wait, cleaning the bathroom then…I forgot.

    A clean slate is all that I seek!
    This agenda of mine is making me bleak
    I need just one moment to think
    (or maybe I just need a drink)
    Screw it, I’m calling in sick the rest of the week.

  33. J.lynn Sheridan

    “Moving Mom”

    I confess there’s more to see
    behind the scribblings
    on the Chase wall calendar
    hanging in your yellow kitchen—

    the big X in the center of November 15.

    I’ll drive from the end of the
    Wisconsin line where the butcher
    lives and dines on venison
    to the suburbs where the
    bustling medical center is
    sandwiched between a
    Hooters and a Chicago Pizza
    to learn

    if it is time.

  34. mich

    Each day followed the one before
    Regimented blocks of time
    With events precision scheduled
    To maximize hours, minutes, seconds
    In efficient trips to and from work
    and extracurricular activities
    Until that one moment
    When I realized the most important
    Appointments I could keep
    Were the moments I shared with you.

  35. Andrew Kreider


    I brought you roses from the street seller
    at the corner of Archway Road, just like
    my dad used to buy flowers for my mum,

    sometimes to mark a special occasion,
    sometimes for absolutely no reason
    except that she loved fragrance and colour,

    and maybe I’m hoping you are like her
    though I don’t realize it yet; maybe
    I am trying to be as good as him.

    1. Jane Shlensky

      I love this, Andrew. I’ve read it three times and can find nothing I don’t like about its sweetness, its hope. The last stanza pulls it together well.

          1. PKP

            Count me as a third … This is a perfectly blanched poem…it is a shimmering delight – like that flower stand wet and sparkling with sunshine of love and hope … Stunning!

  36. Marie Elena


    In her mid-eighties, she could be found
    Playing basketball with her great-grands.

    After the stroke, she could be found
    Wherever she was placed.

    Yet, the stroke could not stop
    Her strong, beating heart.

    Five years later, out of the blue,
    Healthy organs began shutting down.

    Asked if she knew what was happening,
    She nodded yes.

    “Are you ready?”

    Another “yes” nod accompanied
    Obvious relief and absolute anticipation.

    It was time.

    1. mich

      The day before my mother died (one day shy of a month ago), I crawled onto her nursing home bed with her and just held her. She was ready, though not yet 80. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem.

      1. Marie Elena

        Oh my … so very sorry for your recent loss, mich. I can’t even think about losing my parents without my eyes welling – the only downside to a close family. I need to remind myself that when it is time, it is time, and God will give us all the strength to get through it. He’ll have to.

    2. PKP

      Ahhhh Marie – truly one of your finest – love, respect, dignity sparking spilling over the page…the contrasts between first and second stanza and thn the quiet strength throughout – beautiful

  37. JWLaviguer

    Appointment With Death

    A long life ending too soon
    Like a song stopped in the middle
    On an 8-track tape

    My bucket list incomplete
    In fact, never begun
    Too busy with life

    Alone in this bed
    No friends or family
    Too busy with life

    One more chance
    Is all I ask
    To make it right

    Someone is here
    To say goodbye
    ‘Tis only Death

    I close my eyes
    Begin a new journey
    On the other side

    I have regrets
    But don’t we all
    Too busy with life.

  38. Ber

    Growing Up

    Oh waking up to a wonderful day
    all that needs to be done
    school starts back tomorrow
    my body is tired
    feels like a worn out marrow

    Running around like a wild one
    hope to wake up on time
    set the alarm clock
    the rush is on again

    Children stressed out
    over not having enough
    coloring pens
    Off to work the good gentlemen

    Smell of the toast and the hot tea
    children and everyone
    rushing by me
    summer is gone
    weather is getting cold
    oh my goodness
    i feel very old

    Writing down the list of the last few bit and bobs
    wondering is there anything left for me in the shops
    the race is on to find all i can
    i need an industrial cooler a massive big fan

    To cool me down and calm me down
    i must not stand still
    give me something for my nerves
    or least something to help me stand still

    Off she will go another start of a year
    growing up so fast
    the daughter i hold so dear
    where does time go
    my baby is growing up fast
    she always makes me laugh
    we surely have a blast

    So as tomorrow draws closer
    she will wave goodbye to me
    she wont let me hug her in public
    or even sit on my knee
    all grown up now
    she is independent sure enough
    by tomorrow evening i will be out of puff

      1. Ber

        I have a son who is 20 another daughter who is 15 and the youngest is 10 so have experienced all the ages. Never sit still in any case. That is the most terrifying part of their adolescence driving for a parent i suppose. Wrote this for my youngest she is truly becoming independent now. Growing up fast


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.