A dark spot on the wall
Where light does not fall
My eyes from it I cannot shift
And my gaze from it will not drift

It is but a speck, a little dot
But look away from it I cannot
It knows my name and knows my…

The kind people of Sombreville nailed a bronze plate with Dad’s name to the new church building. A ribbon was cut, Dad’s hand was shook and the heavy oak doors to the hollow church swung open with a lazy creak. An elderly gentleman with raisin-like skin motioned for dad to step inside. With the…

I wish that I

Was a shadow on the wall

And that I could crawl

To the floor and across

A million pieces

It’s just past 9pm. Sitting, half lying, on a hard and uncomfortable chair in a cold hospital room, I stare at Beauty as the life slips from her body.

“Am I dead yet?” she asks.

Happy little fairies

In the sun at play

Down comes the raven

On their little limbs to prey

Fleeting through the grass