A Writer’s Body

Most of my life, I’ve been petite.  A dancer, personal trainer, five-foot-three, size two. Then I became a writer. Paid to sit and pen my words. I’ve put on thirty-pounds over two years. Honestly, I love writing, it’s the perfect job. But I must say,…

Missing

They turn their head the other way look back again to see her play Where is she? Where did she go? They turn their head for a moment nowhere to show! They screamed her name time and time again! No where to find her A…

Hour 13 – Prompt 13 – Missing

A happy family filled with joy and humour Every day included tales of some missing things Some found after a long search, some never to be found Till one day, their young daughter went missing Everyone was stunned and refused to accept “How could a…

Is it me?

There’s a face on my milk carton, Every time I turn it around, That face stares at me. There’s a face in the grocery store, Every time I walk through, That face stares at me. There’s a face at the Post Office, Every time I…

Where Is She

Her long light brown braids, bouncing on her back as she ran to her new bicycle. 6-years-old she had just learned to ride with the two wheels. Her Daddy was there, to set his little girl free. He sent her only down the block. The innocence of…

#1

a minute is longer than an hour when waiting becomes mysteriously entangled with the very fabric of existence as you swing through life always so quietly I am never sure when to expect you back