dresses for older brides

I awoke this very early morning to the moonlight streaming through my window and taping atop my blankets. The moon so quiet in the sky, as the old poet says. But I awakened with a notion for a story I'm trying not to write. I'm trying to finish a mystery, but see there's this toy. A tiny little harmonica who is on the Isle of Misfit toys. And in his little harmonica heart his dream is to play the part in a Cradle Song for Harmonica and Orchestra. A gentle piece that soothes a child's heart. But the little harmonica is worn and a little bent and smooshed up, and the bully toys, brass trumpets and such, make fun of his dreams. I've long since learned, if I wake up with any writing notion, I get up and write it down before I go back to sleep, because if I go back to sleep, I will forget. And when I wake up, besides forgetting, I will have a memory that I thought of something that I should have written down. So disturbing the moonlight as little as I could, I rushed to the computer, got down the latest notions about the little harmonica, and now this bit of a note, and I'm going back to bed to watch the moonlight and go back to sleep. dresses for older brides