You smelled of Sandalwood and Patchouli.
Zeppelin on the turntable, smoke in the air.
Boone’s Farm Strawberry, the flavor of your kiss.
We were bullet proof and would live forever.
Tomorrow was a given, it would take care of itself.
Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson
I grew up just after the hippie was cool. I wore bell bottom, hip-hugger jeans, head bands and midriff-bearing tops. Love beads. My dad was furious with me because every time he took a photo, I was making the “peace sign” with my fingers in the air. My mom was furious because every time she got rid of my too-short shorts, I managed to save them from the garbage men only to get caught wearing them again. I wore flowers in my hair and I thought living in a commune would be a cool idea.
Continue reading “A Past Life”