—————————– I hold within my palm a rock it is smooth and shaped like an egg the colors like calico wet with rain it comforts little my ache it mends me not when torn it is just a rock and it lays in silent jest if it had a mouth it would be smirking “I … More Keepsake
small child big bed lost in a room lost in her head The gray of her days by a rectangle window gave slight to light and tossed the lines haphazard and tangled. There came a knocking a pounding thrice times in the days shook the frame of her mind until crazy with fright! surrender surrender … More Bang
Ah, poetry, spring is really giving birth to my creative writing these days. Though this one leans toward the sad side. Within us, there are always sad corners, dark spaces, I believe. I cannot imagine anyone living the perfect life. There are times, we slip into the gray, yes? And they need voices too. ——————————————– … More Home
INTO THIS DEEP 