I picture it: a convention of like minds, congregating, sharing, aspiring to betterment. A conference of healing, for the newly deceased – like limbo, only
Category: relationships
Hand Holding
Found my first love holding hands walking home from school – grade one. Father’s grip crushed, controlled, warned against disobedience, held on until compliance was
A Tragic Flaw
Was it real, or a dream? Flash of brown eyes.. that smile – just for him – inviting… Consumed was he raced everyday to that
Love Talk
It’s like cycling uphill in three lanes of traffic in a snowstorm trying to communicate with you I keep peddling – sending signals – but
Washed Ashore
Was willing to settle even before casting off anchorless, with no compass to guide me, no oar to steer left fate to the currents a
Muddled Waters
Conscience clear, even circumspect, no hidden motives, just a desire for closeness, an intimacy only two can share, and yet even as you approach I
