I can feel again.
I can see again.
I can breathe again. Continue reading “Autumn. (Week 11: Poetry)” →
The traveller awakens to the sound of the grass,
whispering tales of soldiers long passed. Continue reading “Summer. (Week 10: Poetry)” →
The landscapes awake in a colorful burst
as the cold drifts away and releases the Earth. Continue reading “Spring. (Week 9: Poetry)” →
Sometimes, if I strain my eyes hard enough, I can see him as he sits on that mahogany chair we bought at Gravesend all those years ago; eyebrows furrowed and pen in hand. Continue reading “A Letter. (Week 8: Fiction)” →
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