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Who is the leader who is the clown. If leader I was then decisions must make.

Reward Yourself

Chose my own style and beware of mistake. Not too laissez-faire not too much autocrat. And I fear my conception struggles at that. With my feet on the ground and my head in the air. To be clown might be good fun that I agree. But humorous teller is not really me. The sub-leader leader the group leaders mate. Oh Tannenbaum and Schmit what a terrible fate.

Cradle Of Filth - The Death of Love [OFFICIAL VIDEO]

To be always the best man and never the groom. I am the make-weight the one on the fence. But sad to relate they only had six. Sitting all day while the arguments rage. As to what we agree on and is it so sage.

Bring On The Daffodils!

I suppose I should help find what we should do. If they feel strongly the must convince me. Dragged by the JCB. I guessed you were old. I tried to talk to you. I was not part of it as I watched. You twitched and chewed and stared. Did you think of death as the cold. Did you remember Springs of green. Was your swollen side the trouble of age. Did you sway with life within or death without. This morning the JCB took you away. Published - Dead Amidst the Daffodil. In 'The Case of the Missing Heiress', a Sunday afternoon of research for Sebastian Symes is shattered by the arrival of his old friend and family lawyer Ebenezer Bulrush.

He has lost an heiress to the Fitzwarton fortune and faces ruin. The only man he can turn to find the missing girl and clear his firm's names is Sebastian Symes. But the great detective soon finds himself embroiled in a tangled tale of love, deception and family feuds - and he will need to use all his wits to find a solution to one of the knottiest mysteries of his career. For some are plucked. Some wither on the vine. Which has the best. That taken in its prime. Or that left dried and wizened. Which is the waste.

That picked before its time. Clinging to bare branch. Never to be plucked.

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But to wither on the vine. Published - Time Piece. Take me to the dog pound. Toss away the key.

G.W. Colkitto (Author of The Case of the Missing Heiress)

Leave me there, coat unbrushed. Panting, lost hope, crushed in dust. Throw me a look and walk away. Ignore the pull of wide pleading eyes. Shut your ears to the plaintive whine. Asking for love, a friendly sign. Send for the vet to put me down. Shave my leg inject and kill. Lay my body soft on the floor. Forget me then, this dog no more.

Sometimes you do not feel. Land with a splat and lie. Airless, flat, no rebound. On half days you plop back. Slowly depart the point. To comfort of shadows. In high times you drop. The bounce to bring you back. All laughter and smiles. The dream is of the day. Higher than the descent. Never to plummet down. No man on a white horse with bullets of silver. No William Tell music in times of danger. No hearty Hi-Ho, no black-masked stranger,. No with one leap he was free. No edge of the seat with heart all aquiver.

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In real life, the evil is often the winner. The bad guys claim victory. The mask has slipped and the face is a glimmer. The ghost of Kimo Sabi. Time Piece - Anthology.

He does not laugh. He does not cry. He does not sing. He does not sigh. He does not live. He does not die. Carved from the tree. Which once had grown. Tall from the seed. And we grow and we learn and we grow and we learn and we come to understand with godly insight by Your Spirit that there is more to our eternal beings than lies within this earth. We were not created for this place. We were created from the beginning to live in Eden with You — in a perfect place in perfect fellowship with our Creator. And sin has marred Your creation — we have marred Your creation.

You know, Lord, yesterday You and I had lunch with Hannah. I took my sandwich and sat by her grave and ate and wept. It was a good thing. I will never get over the loss of Hannah. The scar has been too deep. The loss those mothers feel after aborting a child must be unbearable — feeling the responsibility for the death of that child. I cannot even imagine. Roberta said it seems like just yesterday and then it seems like a very long time since she has seen her baby girl. I could so identify. Wrap them up in Your great big arms of comfort this week and speak loudly in the midst their loneliness.

Minister to their hearts as only You can and give them the strength for one more day. And Lord, give me that same strength — just enough for one more day. Allow me in simple faith to trust You for today. I am not certain of where You are leading, but when I look back, I am absolutely certain of where You have been. With confidence built from yesterday, help me look ahead to this new day! And in the midst of the brokenness all around, let me be looking for the daffodils that continue to remind me of my Unchanging Heavenly Father. And let them remind me that they have no struggle in the giving of those blossoms — they just lie dormant in the ground and at the proper time, with no effort, they spring forth.

They just remain connected to their source of life. In Your name I ask and pray this day, Amen! This entry was posted on Thursday, February 12th, at You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2. You can leave a response , or trackback from your own site. Debbie — You are a precious gift and messenger. I love you and I stand amazed at how you love and trust our God.

Thank you for teaching me. I thank God for giving you daffodils yesterday. I believed He would give you what you needed to get through a difficult day. Oh Debbie — thank you for your message! It was so beautiful.