The Cookie and The Monster’s Mouth

For Bushboys ” Last On the Card” Prompt I am posting pictures  that I took roughly at the same location exactly one week apart.

One was taken Mid-May, the second was taken on May 28th.

I like both of the pictures butI  Iike the moody one the best because it reminds me of a cookie!

Photo A.M. Moscoso
May 2024

From rougly the same location a week before.

This one looks happy- but I see  monster’s mouth with the POV from inside of the monsters mouth looking out.

Yep. I see spooky  stuff everywhere I go.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

So sleep on, with no fear.

Epitaphs are lullabies carved in stone

and I think that they are the saddest songs we sing.

Photo A.M. Moscoso Woodinville Washington USA

Photo A.M. Moscoso
Puyallup WA. Usa

Photo A.M. Moscoso
Bear Creek Cemetery
Woodinville Washington USA

Johannes Brahms Lyrics

Lullaby and Good Night Lyrics

Lullaby, and good night,
With pink roses bedight,
With lilies o’erspread,
Is my baby’s sweet head.
Lay you down now, and rest,
May your slumber be blessed!
Lay you down now, and rest,
May thy slumber be blessed!

Lullaby, and good night,
You’re your mother’s delight,
Shining angels beside
My darling abide.
Soft and warm is your bed,
Close your eyes and rest your head.
Soft and warm is your bed,
Close your eyes and rest your head.

Sleepyhead, close your eyes.
Mother’s right here beside you.
I’ll protect you from harm,
You will wake in my arms.
Guardian angels are near,
So sleep on, with no fear.
Guardian angels are near,
So sleep on, with no fear.

Lullaby, and sleep tight.
Hush! My darling is sleeping,
On his sheets white as cream,
With his head full of dreams.
When the sky’s bright with dawn,
He will wake in the morning.
When noontide warms the world,

June Writing Prompt 2024  #1

Upon Reflection

RDP Monday: OLDER

Today I looked into my bathroom mirror

and I said to the slightly worn  face,  shrouded in mist and droplets of cool water,

” Who are you? Are you me? Are you Anita?  ”

The face in the mist did not not reply.

It looked at me sternly.

 

I asked again.

” Who are you? ”

And then the face, shrouded in mist and a lot of years  put it’s hand against the glass,  it pushed it’s face against the mirror and then it did not ask as much as it demanded to know

What the Hell are you and where is Anita? ”