Sixty-two hundred and five Syllables a year. The first rays of dawn. Set each grass blade glittering. Heaped in a small garden plot.

Hills will tell you that you hate running, but hills lie.

Maybe it was the work. To get milk down the street. Maybe it was the exposure. They swore it was safe. On Navy ships, valiant,. Maybe it was the agent orange. Uncle Sam admits now, oops. Maybe it was the 40 years of nicotine. The 20 years of whiskey. To function, to forget. Both fought, both defeated.

Writer, educator, gritty optimist. A room of your own. Using images to create a timeline, bio, or an outline. A single acorn cap has many stories hidden inside take a look. What do you see? Ask it. So, You Want to Write? Write on the fly. April Song on the Vineyard. Light a Candle on the Darkest Night. Good Dads Have Sex Appeal. Chocorua Writers Workshop January 2018.

Dark Fey The Reviled- Pinnacle Chapter. Dark Fey, Jyndari Summerfest. Dark Fey, Review and 2nd Interview. Beyond the Chasm of Earthly Tones,.

Lookin to catch some new words. Shade and rustling leaves sigh. The attribute my radar seeks. But time plays tricks as we both know. For every time my true love speaks.

Mind wanders into the hollow escapades of the past. As words stumble, crumble, splattering in figments onto the parchment. Scattered, scrambling together to form a coherent set of lines. Freeze paned, lead hovers ready to cross, scratch out. Pink embraces paper as the words scream out before they vanish, like they never lived. A sense of calm fills the air as gray slowly dances across the white horizon. Mdash; Leave a comment.

I live my life in fragments.