The fabric of life with a hubby or wifey can be electric, twined with its doubts woven into a long strip of malfunctioning zipper. To the right is the way to stay clean, to the left is a little frayed.
Let’s call a spade a spade at the end of the day clothes get worn in time and need patches and alterations made on a dime.
Dry cleaning like after washing in full load, often hung out to dry, or tossed in the spinner’s rotation on to the next episode where the heat can fry.
Feelings are often like a pair of socks in the dryer, or reeking like mothballs dangling on a wire.
Old school beans cool on a session of four twenty high way, sky way, fly way back to where it all started, fresh a new and or end up in good will, true.
The Urban Psalmist