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Sarita Crandall Nov 2016
SO many times.

So many times I have waited, and waited......and waited for you.

Waited for you to come home,
               For you to pick me up,
                    For you to kiss me,
                         For you to hold me,
                              For you to be next to me,
                                   For you to love me,

I don't want to be waiting forever.
Sarita Crandall Nov 2016
I just wish he didn't come to school with scars.
Or bruises that are a much deeper purple than my dress,
If I could, I would put his parents behind bars.
But ultimately that would make him stress.

Because he loves them, after all.
They're his parents and they care for him right?
Even if the hits are hard enough to make him bawl,
The hits will stop if he doesn't put up a fight.

He's a trooper that's for sure,
Sharing his smile to all in his path.
When I'm having a bad day that smile is my cure.
I'm just sorry he has to suffer his parents wrath.
A camper of mine is going through a tough time, something is going on at home and I'm not sure how to address it.
Sarita Crandall Feb 2016
You're the reason why a smile appears
                       on my face
                                     when I should really be sleeping.

The reason why my laugh
                           echoes across
                                    this building we call home.

You're the reason why I am
                     caught dreaming
                              when I am suppose to be working.

The reason why I feel
                    perfectly safe
                               falling in love with you.
Sarita Crandall Oct 2015
How do you know?

Where the lovers go?

Do they run, towards the setting sun?

Or secretly meet where the water kisses their feet?

Or perhaps bathe in the light, feeling more than alright.

Where ever the lovers may be, I hope they get a chance to come get me.
Sarita Crandall May 2015
There is no doubt that his hands have traveled before,
They're experienced explores.
Over her gentle skin he cruised slowly back and forth,
To the nook of her neck,
To the warm welcoming crevasse between her thighs.
His hands gradually walked over to her backside where his hands simply rested,
Taking in the view.
Her body was the map,
And his hands were those of a skilled cartographers who desperately needed to know every inch,
Every mile between her poorly painted pink toes,
To her sun streaked gold hair.
And so the experienced explorers wandered,
Strolled over the many dips and curves and bends and twists that she held.
When his hands came to her wrist,
He stopped momentarily to admire the slenderness.
When his hands ventured to her shoulders,
He felt the muscles that lay under the polished skin.
When his hands finally made their way to her legs,
He was aware of how sturdy and stocky they were built.
With every brush,
And glide of his hands,
She couldn't help but think,
There is no doubt that his hands have traveled before,
They're experienced explores.
Sarita Crandall Sep 2013
When I look outside,
                                                     at the freshly mowed grass,

                                                         ­                                      I think it's a pity....................

no one walks on it barefooted.
Sarita Crandall Sep 2013
Do me a favor.
Tell me you're a keeper,
I won't let go.

But if you're not,
That's okay. Just be aware,
My grip will tighten.

Because regardless
If you're a keeper or,
not. I still love you.
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