Poem no. 23: Recovery Time Sometimes the day casually raked its claws down her And they did not understand That she would withdraw To silence and to peace Waiting for the wounds to heal. © Anne McMaster 2016

stroking and standing in the half~light soft voice man your hands wandering pause and touch stroke and pause would I could purr like that your gaze intense your hands alive all over her i slowly blink extending a paw your way

  Let me sleep, Lords of creativity I will spill more words tomorrow, free me of this generous captivity I will break my heart again, tomorrow.

Rusty is my dog Who knows how to be great He is a best friend always meets me at the gate wagging his tail from side to side Always looking as if to smile. copyright 2016 Roxann A Harvey

I don’t know which was is up or down or anywhere for that matter my eyes burn my body aches and I am ready to fall helplessly in love with sleep I feel drained, itchy, crawling out of my skin but I wouldn’t trade this feeling…

Weird as it may seem The fight is on to push Forward in this race to the finish So hold on just a few more Hours to go. Truth be told Life is full of surprises It’s a great way to start Being a great…

This hearts undone Most every morning Then takes in the day To make its way home With strings unstrung This heart is unknowing Yet still can play The sweetest of songs

What could be the difference between waking to a cloudy morning and a sunny afternoon? The cool earliness alludes to a hot stillness of the midday sun. How easily one thing turns into another.

      A bed which I dozed off Near my laptop More papers Discussing things within dear ones Man cave Pure madness over things Peculiar to my own liking Something ready for research Cyberspace intuits Little world Still my domain a haven within My…

I have not The most welcome Home. No, it is quite the mess. Old clothes Welcome home My guests Uninvited most times. Just a few More weekends Welcome Home this trash of mine I must Have a place To unwind I sit with a glass…