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Canvases.......layered on floor and ready to go.
Brushes.........no need we used your body parts.
Lighting........soft and turned dim then very low.
Ready willing and able to create works of art.
Waited with shallow breaths in deep anticipation.
Drew back curtain to expose my Nubian queen.
I was breathless as you stood before me naked.
Art creating will never be the same after that.  

Still thinking of all the memories we created Betty
and your smile and **** voice saying you loved me. : )
Early bad memory of writings; teacher accused me of plagiary.
Untruth, but at age eight, was thought words far "too" advanced.
Same holds true with drawings and paintings entered in contests.
"No child her age could create these!" was written to my mother.
"It is our expert opinion that her entries are from someone else."
No interest in turth, but came to me disqualifications; that's life!
With an understanding that you find my words a great read,
your imitations are flattering, but they're not your life or truths.
Writing for me comes easy, been that way seems all my life,
always something happening that inspires just the right words.
Wont ramble on and hoping you will remove and not repeat.

I never let what that teacher said or the people who refused to believe
that I could create art stop me from being who I was born to be.
Vous serez toujours dans mon coeur.
Vous serez egalement mon port dans la tempete.
Essayant de ne pas faire trop d'erreurs,
si je le fais, sourire, t'aime mon ami.
Since early childhood I've never been one to actively seek the "dramatic" in life; it emotionally drains, it's a blocker of productivity and, quite frankly, it's stupid.
In the sandbox there's always that little one who is perfectly happy to play alone; that would be me avoiding those in love with all the ups and downs drama creates.

There are no better times in life for me than finding that serene inner peaceful place;
the one I seek out when the world seems to be going mad without base of rationale.
The wise of life have looked within the depths of my eyes and deemed me "old soul";
I was too young at that time to understand until another learned elder explained it.

Was still too young to fathom all entailed or why I was chosen born an aged soul; but knew, even at that age, all things happen for a reason and when meant to be.

As I grow older the passage of time for me seems to quicken; Which made me realize when I was very young, life is brief and is not to be wasted on anything related to the toxic or anyone's energy draining emotional drama.

Because as we all age, we run even faster towards the grave.
Big fun time with you was hearing you sing jingles,
walking next to you hand holding strolling b beach,
slowing my pace and letting you lovely shorty keep up.
Pleased at you stumbling in the dark into my arms,
smile on my face and arms warming you from cold.
Hearing you whisper my name when I kissed your lips,
holding your face and kissing you until you relax,
moment has come my love.....time to fade to black.


Memories never faded Pet. Liked that you weren't into wearing gobs of makeup and still aren't. (smiling here)I never had to clean makeup stains off my pillow cases. Love you and always will.
Memories of you will never fade, magnificent seductress and my runaway love.
I've been missing your unforgettable kisses and scented skin after perfumed baths.
Glimpse of you at first light of day, I remember sugary sweet nectar of you lips.
soft lips meant for kissing under moon's glow and that beautiful smile and laugh.
I adored making love to you under dark skies lit by friend pale moon's reflections.
Swish of you skirt close to my face, crumpled shirt leaves little to my imagination.
Shoulders half bare, cheeks flushed many shades of red that no crayola can match.   
Watching you and loving that look of heat and passion through half closed eyes.
Holding you close and never letting go in dreams that I've had since meeting you.
You stepped off that curb and fell in my arms that was when I knew love Betty.

You were and will always be a fetching temptress!
Ms. Betty Ponder, I can still make you blush.
Saved that crumpled skirt and it's in a safe place
along with all the Artistic Pictures. : )
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