Sunday morning—Brisk, cool air— Stirs the skin with a chill.Coffee, liquid warmth, Brown as the autumn leaves,Mixed spices wake the senses. The cat yawns ...

Thirty days and thirty nightscan never be enoughto get over you. The light you broughtinto my life is nowa distant memory. Every time I ...

a bowl of cereal, and  a slice of cinnamon toast I watch morning blackbirds perch on fence posts  our streetlamp posts  are receiving new globes down the village road there ...

Am I part of your world?I must be dreaming. Am I worthy of your touch?Here you are, holding mewithin the palm of your hand. ...

Hello, Mister Moon Have you enough time? To drop by And fill my empty spoon With memories and rhymes  I am feeling tired and bland My quill needs a ...

My ancient limbs are wearyTimewornFrom trying to walk on waterBut I am able enoughTo leave a footprint in the sandBefore the tide returns again ...

Life is not createdwithin cookie-cutterboundaries. There is no  clear-cut way toeternal happiness. For I am only humanundefined by a categoryor any identity. I am more ...

First sentences are nerve-wracking. It’s the first chance someone has to judge your writing. My first creative writing professor in college told us a ...

We all have a list of the things we need to do. Adulthood is full of them. Our days are full of work, chores, ...

The roar of the school busand excitement of Pep rallies, Friday night footballin the chilly night air  nips at naked necks and fingertipsas Autumn ...