She knelt by his beside, and forced a smile upon her face. She gazed deep into his blue eyes, growing more fearful at the cloudy glaze of fever…. and something else. Was she too late to save him?
I sat that there watching you struggle. wincing. gasping. Closing my eyes, wishing this were a dream. What could be going on in your mind? Can you possibly think amidst the pain? I can’t. All I can do is sit here and watch you hurt.
I just finished reading a book while sitting on my Bed.
There are a bunch of books on my bedside, with a lamp on top of it.
I feel calm, just reading at peace.
besdide, what bedside, hospital care, bedside? My acutal bedside, Nebraksa, nex to window ans the lgiht filters and hits the bedside, the comfy cozy bedside, good tiems, simple times ,drwaing times, creative times bedsine, table next to bedside, origami table, sitting table
Nothing beats a trusty book on your bedside, always at your beck and call. That book on your bedside is your companion, keeping you busy on sleepless nights. It is your dream conjurer. Why the need for a dream catcher when you have a good book on your bedside?
I remember how you smelled. No matter if we were out on the land for three days, you always smelled good. The horses stank. Just about everything stank. But you always smelled like soap and smoke from the fire. Only twice I got close enough to breathe you in. Once at your bedside, after you got sick. You told me to find a nice man and settle down, to stop making mistakes and chasing sad dreams. You were right, I’d made a lot of mistakes in my life.
Telling you I loved you was the biggest one.
The glass of water is filled with lemon seeds. It’s an icon on the bedside table. Why does it have so much personality? I sip it carefully throughout the night.
inabilities plague the malcontent of the soul
stepping backwards without feet to stand on.
lovely dreams of the agonizing understanding
gathering together the irreparable damage
one does not leave the bedside
I watched mí mama waste away, kneeling with teary brown eyes and trembling hands by her bedside. I begged the Lord for something, anything to bring her back to us. Even though she was still here, her soft brown skin gone almost gray from the ravages of her illness and her dark curls spread across the lavender pillowcase, I knew she would be gone soon, and I missed her greatly. I missed her sweet laughter and the conversations we would have late at night about books and her cooking and — I just wanted her back. I couldn’t lose her.
After countless battles and countless wounds, by his side is where his soldier sat. Nervous twiddling and worried glances. Would his protected one ever wake again? Was this battle his last. But he did it all for love.
i woke up at the middle of the night to check what type of snack i had and then i went down stairs to the kitchen and then i finally realized that i had some chips on the bedside of my room. Then i went back upstairs and enjoyed my chi[s
Frankie stayed at my bedside the entire time I was ill, holding my clammy hand and singing to me as I faded in and out of consciousness. I had strange dreams, mostly consisting of abstract shapes and bubbles that carried me to a shoddily drawn house on a crayon landscape. It was as if my mind had been melted like wax, and the last memories I had were of things I had created as a small child in art class.
bedside table cool window swoosh, moonlight drapes, new detergent small and tight feet, cool against the skin, fresh pillowcases pressing into your cheekbones, roll over but don’t yank the blanket loose.
I want you at my bedside when I die
I don’t want you to cry
I want you to say that you love me,
hold no other above me,
will cherish me always
part ways with me never.
Then I want you to say goodbye.
Beside my bed, beside my loyal dog is the cat. He’s cool too. But to my right is my gift. My partner. My companion. My inspiration. The bedside recipient of my love. OOOmpHH… I love her the most.
When I wake up, I have nightmares. Bedsides are supposed to remind you something serene, comforting, healthy. But a bed to me is full of thorns – painful. Because that is what sleep is to me. Sometimes I think of going to sleep forever – so it is ironic I should get this word as my prompt.
She knelt by his beside, and forced a smile upon her face. She gazed deep into his blue eyes, growing more fearful at the cloudy glaze of fever…. and something else. Was she too late to save him?
The far bedside was empty, but the imprint of a human body was still fresh.
I sat that there watching you struggle. wincing. gasping. Closing my eyes, wishing this were a dream. What could be going on in your mind? Can you possibly think amidst the pain? I can’t. All I can do is sit here and watch you hurt.
I just finished reading a book while sitting on my Bed.
There are a bunch of books on my bedside, with a lamp on top of it.
I feel calm, just reading at peace.
besdide, what bedside, hospital care, bedside? My acutal bedside, Nebraksa, nex to window ans the lgiht filters and hits the bedside, the comfy cozy bedside, good tiems, simple times ,drwaing times, creative times bedsine, table next to bedside, origami table, sitting table
Nothing beats a trusty book on your bedside, always at your beck and call. That book on your bedside is your companion, keeping you busy on sleepless nights. It is your dream conjurer. Why the need for a dream catcher when you have a good book on your bedside?
Dear Sam,
I remember how you smelled. No matter if we were out on the land for three days, you always smelled good. The horses stank. Just about everything stank. But you always smelled like soap and smoke from the fire. Only twice I got close enough to breathe you in. Once at your bedside, after you got sick. You told me to find a nice man and settle down, to stop making mistakes and chasing sad dreams. You were right, I’d made a lot of mistakes in my life.
Telling you I loved you was the biggest one.
The glass of water is filled with lemon seeds. It’s an icon on the bedside table. Why does it have so much personality? I sip it carefully throughout the night.
inabilities plague the malcontent of the soul
stepping backwards without feet to stand on.
lovely dreams of the agonizing understanding
gathering together the irreparable damage
one does not leave the bedside
I watched mí mama waste away, kneeling with teary brown eyes and trembling hands by her bedside. I begged the Lord for something, anything to bring her back to us. Even though she was still here, her soft brown skin gone almost gray from the ravages of her illness and her dark curls spread across the lavender pillowcase, I knew she would be gone soon, and I missed her greatly. I missed her sweet laughter and the conversations we would have late at night about books and her cooking and — I just wanted her back. I couldn’t lose her.
After countless battles and countless wounds, by his side is where his soldier sat. Nervous twiddling and worried glances. Would his protected one ever wake again? Was this battle his last. But he did it all for love.
i woke up at the middle of the night to check what type of snack i had and then i went down stairs to the kitchen and then i finally realized that i had some chips on the bedside of my room. Then i went back upstairs and enjoyed my chi[s
Frankie stayed at my bedside the entire time I was ill, holding my clammy hand and singing to me as I faded in and out of consciousness. I had strange dreams, mostly consisting of abstract shapes and bubbles that carried me to a shoddily drawn house on a crayon landscape. It was as if my mind had been melted like wax, and the last memories I had were of things I had created as a small child in art class.
bedside table cool window swoosh, moonlight drapes, new detergent small and tight feet, cool against the skin, fresh pillowcases pressing into your cheekbones, roll over but don’t yank the blanket loose.
I want you at my bedside when I die
I don’t want you to cry
I want you to say that you love me,
hold no other above me,
will cherish me always
part ways with me never.
Then I want you to say goodbye.
Beside my bed, beside my loyal dog is the cat. He’s cool too. But to my right is my gift. My partner. My companion. My inspiration. The bedside recipient of my love. OOOmpHH… I love her the most.
When I wake up, I have nightmares. Bedsides are supposed to remind you something serene, comforting, healthy. But a bed to me is full of thorns – painful. Because that is what sleep is to me. Sometimes I think of going to sleep forever – so it is ironic I should get this word as my prompt.