Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Wait for me!

Flip flops. Dirt streaked and dented. Handy, but awkward in certain situations. Like climbing over hurdles.

Black skates. Blades, not wheels. Laced and ready to rocket.

One pair belongs to her. The other to him.

Even if they head in the same direction, they'll never roll the same way.

Prognosis: Doomed from the start.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Poor girl, sounds like your having some trouble in paradise. Everything ok Sara?

sarah said...

Nah. Just some cloudy, rainy day, don't want to be at work, blues.