Prose
Blue Butterflies
The war ate the 14-year-olds. Such were the days, when young boys wielded swords and died on these dusts. Politicians, drunk in the revelry of
The war ate the 14-year-olds. Such were the days, when young boys wielded swords and died on these dusts. Politicians, drunk in the revelry of
The chalk dissolved on the pavement when the first rains of the year came, Hopscotch trails and stick figures disappearing as the ground turned a
What exactly have I done so wrong? I have listened to his cries and please I have tried to understand all of his Hopes, dreams
Childbirth is the mother of adventure,. You hear of heavens, rocks and earths Getting split opened like the mouths of lovelorn soldiers roaring irate, Vocalic
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Raindrops Love is in the silver drops liquid paradise fresh invigorating slice water heals our spirit revives our magician inside! writing and typing side by
Gypsy of flowers The winds carry many showers, flowers of petal towers swaying with life’s handshakes, writing in meadows with light shades. Curtains of sunlight
Spring’s Water My love for spring the flowers sing my heart aches for petals to love to see the blue sky and the soft birds
The season is relaxing washing in on ocean waves the sand captures tender land escapes drapes of quiet look rest is special test captivates our