The Widow

Every early morning she leashes her old dog, walks down to and through the forest to the lake. She looks younger than her fifty-six years, although she feels older, or rather, as if she has lived far too long already. Her dog, an Aussie boy, a handsome black tri-color, walks Read more

In Between the Rain

Have I been good enough, Mother? Oh how I miss the days when your skin was smooth, and bronzed How your smile beamed when you saw my little face Remember when you let me stay up late, way, way past bedtime To watch scary movies curled up on the cozy Read more