Heat waves are trouble for anyone, and for seniors living in retirement homes and care homes, it's can be life-threatening. Here is what can be done.
The sun set just a little too low
and the moon rose just a tad bit too high
even for my taste tonight
The thought of sleep never appealed to me as a child
I always feared I’ll miss out on something grand
Sleep, to me, was a waste of time
So I lived for the mantra and put this to bed:
“I’m sorry, Mama, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
Maybe it was the way of the nighttime and its romantic air
Everything damaged was beautiful
and broken things, just a little too alluring
more so with broken people
Secrets weren’t secrets during the day
They revealed themselves in the cool breeze of the night
And they took the form of tantalizing women with snakelike eyes
The men found them beautiful
The women thought them dangerous
But the night made them hauntingly magical
And there was nothing they couldn’t satiate
Even the lion’s curiosity a poor prey
Underground parties pulsate in the dark
Invites only, nasty tongues interlock
Joints lighting up, but my heart’s growing cold
I used to see the stars in your eyes
Now all I see is coal
You sure sealed the deal with more than just a kiss
Knife to the chest, tell the truth, or maybe just better lies
’Cause now I’m left here to think,
I should have listened to my mother
and took that damned sleep when I was five
Mythical creature or the side effects of being high
The sight of you with her –
I can’t even close my eyes to save my life
So go ahead, you can keep that secret airtight
But I’m here to tell you,
I’m on a witch hunt tonight.
-D.
Working in a food development lab, I ended up washing tins of pet food and measuring the pieces of all the solid particles. This is known as a 'washout'.
Either it is the bedrock of a morning ritual or the situational harbor in the metaphorical storm of a tragedy. A dark rainy night with a cup of tea and a book is a common heavenly scene that many…