The Abused Child's Refuge: Imagination (page 6)

talesin

Doofdaddy, that bear reminds me of the one from The Golden Compass.

The library was my refuge, too, and still is, I must confess .... ah, books!

talesin

Re: the OP

Choices

I can choose to dwell on the seemingly

Endless Nights -

some sleepless, some filled with night terrors.

On the Days when my body is exhausted,

and MY MIND

Races

with the Doubts and Fears that were

Placed there in the

P A S T

OR

I can choose to think about what

PLEASURES

may come my way Today.

I can choose to watch children in the park,

and

share their Innocent Exuberance.

I may stand by the ocean,

SWEPT AWAY

by the beauty of nature.

The Sea -- HOME

A day that Begins with Pink

streaking the clouds, and the

Smell of Rain

that fell during the night,

while I was, perhaps,

Sleeping ... Peacefully _________________

xo

tal

rip van winkle

Good Morning, CoCo!

To: A Muse~

~Thanks for the inspiration!

"Rip"

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Post 10649!

Post 2431 Writer's Nook

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

rip van winkle

Oui, CoCo.

~~~~~

Prenez-vous une pause dans votre cave?

compound complex

Mais oui, Rip, je le fait!

Bonne Nuit!

CoCo

Twitch

cool vibes

My imagination was always with me, as far as I can recall

Fate, if you will and circumstance augmented it during times of duress in the wonder years

It's since served me well in creative endeavors and in problem solving, talents honed over time

compound complex

It's since served me well in creative endeavors and in problem solving, talents honed over time

Thanks, Twitch!

Glad to find you here in the wee hours of a California morning. I return with frequency to both the recent past and the far past (of childhood) in order to conjure up a mood, a feeling, an experience. It serves me well, too!

Have a good day.

CoCo

compound complex

I could not leave her behind, the plain-looking but noble heroine whose life had been enfolded in the torn, brittle pages of a book no longer useful to its owner. I found Tales of a Forgotten Love in the trash at work, tossed unceremoniously in with discarded, half-eaten lunches and all other detritus common to a typical work place.

Never one to commit the sacrilege of throwing away a book -- even a paperback -- I reached into the waste basket, pulled out the sad-looking little paperback, and wiped off the egg salad that had smeared itself about the torn cover. Double sacrilege: wasting good food and better literature.

The book's cover, now cleared of the disguise of egg and mayo, displayed the portrait of what appeared to be a lady of the 19th century. She was smiling faintly, as though she had something to say but had not yet found the proper words nor the moment for timely expression. She was not a female beautiful by today's superficial standards, yet some indefinable inner light illumined her face. I sensed it; it was not the artist's rendering that put me into that thought.

I opened the book, determined to discover what inner beauty lay within this woman whose outward appearance would capture little notice . . .

rip van winkle

Hi CoCo,

So nice to read your latest. Your first sentence immediately drew me in. I wanted to read more. Wanted to learn about the little treasure that was discarded in the trash. I imagined this lady from another century having an enchanting Mona Lisa type smile and glow. Your imagery was so clearly drawn in my mind's eye. I really enjoyed it!!

The Abused Child's Refuge: Imagination

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