When you miss the state where you grew, There is a candle just for you.   In the early Washington summer, You smell spring rain, Wet pine needles, Fresh blackberries for your ice cream shakes, And a blanket of wild flowers.   As I sit,…

Whispering in terror fearfulness apparent in wide, translucent eyes begging the silent to hear but she cannot scream she cannot hear there is only the nothing that comes when unanswered pleas become shouts of regret there is nothing to be done there is nothing to…