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 as she stretches—Sinewy and slinky. Her green eyes, lazy but alert.Calm and quiet, This morning-time ritual,Peace before the storm.

I am a writer. I make lists for everything: grocery trips, summer plans, story-planning, things I want to try. My bucket list, the things I want to do one day before I die, is the longest list I keep. I’ll bet that is true for most normal people. However, I have another list I keep. ...

Emptiness fills my heart It’s happening again Loving you, being so far apart Where do I fit in? Alone again, I cry Pictures of you So hard, I try What am I to do? There’s nothing left to fight Time has passed us by What’s wrong or right? Living in this lie Moments to never ...