My pie,

my sweetie, sweetness

pie.

My half moon

pie, my

grumpy pants

my love.

 

My special.

My special little love.

My little cute cheeks

yummy pants,

my cutie

little

pie.

 

My pie.

My sweetie cutie pie.

 

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I write from my pantry. (Not literally, because it's too crowded in there, but figuratively.) Everything I write can be traced back to that closet full of sustenance-- all that is dear and delightful as well as painful and confusing. Formerly I taught language arts and social studies to middle schoolers, and now I stay at home with our two young daughters, closer to our pantry.

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