O to sit in the lamplight, with a good book just beyond the grasp of your comprehension. Outside the window as the cold rain falls, sits this brown armchair whose leather holds the hours of your own warmth and slowly gifts them back to you. Continue reading

You cannot tell from just looking at the skin of an apple- a beautiful mix, streaking red and yellow, shining in its wax dress- that it is rotten at its core, brown and mushed, with hardly any substance at all. Sorry to say that the only way to find this out in any one is… Continue reading

This is the part of my life when I get nothing done. I had to steal away during nap-time just to write this poem. Will you prepare her a bottle? Can you grab me a burp cloth? Since she is sleeping in my arms… At this rate I am ten naps away, if I read… Continue reading

Do you cry when a dream dies? Do you bury that hope in your heart? Do you mourn the end of that make-pretend and hold it like a corpse in your arms? Do you think of your slain every now and again? Do you pray for its life anew? Do you often return to its… Continue reading

I can see the sunrise again now that the leaves are gone. Funny how life gets in the way and how the cold winter wind cuts you open, peels back the darkness, and wakes you to the oranges and pinks held together by the fingers of twiddling clouds. Continue reading

And then the yellow maples go And how brilliantly they cue, Waving the winter hello, Bidding the summer adieu. Continue reading

We loved that house as if we had formed each brick with our own hands, laying each one in its place, knowing each by name. We moved out and then moved on, and it felt as though we had laid its foundation with the concrete of our memories and given shape to each story. Now… Continue reading

Life is still preciouswith cloudy eyes,bruised hands andvaricose veins, withshaky wrists andchapped lips. Stillbeautiful as they layeyes closed, deep insleep, an occasionaltwitch, or a painfulturn of the head to a slow smile.Still precious at the end. Continue reading

Been here many times before Same knees Same God. Continue reading

Still enough To feel the wind blow To watch the butterfly wander To hear the brook patter And know it all matters. It’s still enough for me. Continue reading