I love words. They are birds and butterflies, babies and bubbles. Sometimes they’re bricks and stones that break your bones. But I can’t stop writing.* 

 

So here it is, a hint of haiku, a touch of whimsy, the restless energy of romance, delicious and desolate. A slurry of memories, a bite of sadness, a harsh pinch of reality and a teardrop for my kinder, gentler nation of by gone days. How soon we forget...it’s slip, slidin’ away. 

 

 

I welcome your reaction, thoughts, comments. I can’t always promise a response. I know we share a sentiment or two, so if you have a minute or are so inclined, don‘t hesitate to let me know whatever’s on your mind.

 

 

All my photos are joy-filled times and places of my life. You could share a photo, an original poem or one of your own literary works. Just one, please. I’ll reserve a special page on my website for guest artists and writers.


Penn Elliott

P.S. Even if Henry won’t help! See my letter to Cousin Henry.
 

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