the humble watermelon red and juicy in its plumpness bought in abundance by my father   because I was fond of it brings alive his love and warmth, recites my parents’ endearing touch and their wishes of seeing me flourish   nurturing and nourishing extravagance…

the crows debate in their parliament the taste of bread crumbs and the old man who throws it he’s throwing more crumbs to the fish they need to change directions the crows discuss the white cat with the brown ear and green eyes out to…

Dear almost friend I would have still met you at our secret place to exchange our sweet sorrows and star speckled dreams, to imagine a brave world where we ruled, free from restrictive curfews and the necessity of social choice. How naive were we to…

torn pages from a Christie mystery scattered on a hardback chair, cracked wine glass dripping blood red drops of wine on the oak floor, she left in haste running away from the scene of crime. the space where her happiness wilted and almost died. now…