Prose
Betrayal
“Didn’t expect you here,” he said as he spotted me at the mall on that fine Saturday. Not sure if I have to call it
“Didn’t expect you here,” he said as he spotted me at the mall on that fine Saturday. Not sure if I have to call it
When his lips uttered those words, The blood drained from her face and a sheaf of dizziness fluttered through her mind, Her red tears-filled eyes
Two comrades in arms, sundered by death. One laid to rest, and the other returned, bereaved and full of health. The fallen comrade, resting at
Come on and take my hand, Let’s take a trip to memory land, When although life was not so grand, It was never sad or
“Why does everything have to be so hard? Like we are just pretending and pretending. I try to be happy like everyone else. Forgive me
Recklessly I am taking to my new home, Home I have ran away for, for long. Now it seems I am free from that little
Our little wooden cottage was set up on the coast of the Summer Vacay, not very far from the sea. A walk with grandpa, enjoying
He stares at me strangely This son of my mine He catches me smiling When there’s no reason or pantomime I’ve wondered down memory lane
Writing is more than just penning down your thoughts on to a piece of paper. It is the snippets of one’s mind that’s bound to
On lofty land The pure savage bird Builds its eyries With plenty of benign Dark from the human race The majestic Eagle, Flaps its mighty
Keeping my daily journal diary short these sweet bird sounds lost- reviews January through March. Joy a dig deep snow on top of my sorrows.
Here I am again, back to the beginning, Temporarily happy, with this torture cycle That’s never-ending. Thought things would change when I went through those
Chirping hummingbirds with wriggling flies, Dancing butterflies to carefree crows, blossoming florets and awaken shrubs, They wonder, they ponder dazed in a maze Where
Virescent lines drawing curves of hills I worship every time I recall her figure, Douglas firs aligned Rivet memories from our first kiss How dry
Blurb: It tells the story of two sisters in France during World War II, and their struggle to survive and resist the German occupation of France.
Dear girl who had a shoddy past, I am hoping that we will never meet again and therefore writing this letter to talk to you,
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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