Nothing striking in its look a simple sliver knotted band a yellow triangle cut citron stone sits high in the middle. Passed from great grandmother, to grandmother, to mother, to oldest daughter worn on the middle finger of my left hand A gift from three...
This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.You see my writing on the wallAnd you think you know who I am.Am I splayed out naked for all to see,Or can the breeze-blown reeds only glimpseThe surface where...
This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Light puddles on the floor,Crawling along the wooden slatsAnd bleeding down the cracksTo nowhere and somewhereAnd anywhere thatStartsRightHere.Mellow honeyed sc...
I have a granddaughter who will be thirteen this year. We were sitting at her kitchen table the other day talking about school, boys and her friends. We have some very open and frank discussions. I do not believe in hiding the truth when it comes to my gr...
Old guys always start every story with “When I was a boy.” It’s a standard, sorta like “Once upon a time” or “Happily ever after.” It has been my experience that it causes one of two reactions. People will either listen intently for each pearl of wisdom.....
One Door Closes. . . I spent the last six months in my failure-of-a-marriage, tying up loose ends. Divesting myself of all that I'd gained in twenty years. We all accumulate things, to keep under the banner of, “what-if ?” We'd had all our hurtful argumen...
I remember when we met and things were new and exciting. Remember? I remember when we met and we spent endless hours together. Remember? I remember when we met we couldn't get enough of each other. Remember? I remember when I met you I liked you. Remember...
Memories We move because we cannot afford to stand still. Life revolves centrically, clashing between one another. Bumping into other lives. We are like pinballs, absorbing every impact. We exist on other people’s worlds for a limited time. Then we disapp...
I’ve been driving myself nuts trying to find a replacement Dreamcast. A few months ago, the controller port broke, so I’ve been looking for a faulty one, in order to save some money and fix my current one by transplanting the working controller port into...
I don’t remember your face or your smile. I don’t remember the warmth of your skin or the touch of your kiss. I don’t remember you at all. I've heard the stories my brothers and dad tell about you, stories about a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and...
A faded black and white photograph Captures the gleaming grins of a family Soft light ricochets off their shiny cheeks and teeth A dark stain sits in the snapshot’s left margin It’s a smudge that represents a secret That they’d give their lives to keep Bu...
This musing only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Sometimes, I remember my phone's inbox is getting too full. When I am waiting for the bus, I go through and delete old messages.Just a sprinkling of words in...
Never to hear your voice again, Never to see your face. Never to know your touch, Or the taste of your lips on mine. Never to look into your eyes, Or feel your heart beat against mine when we dance. Never to turn in bed and find you there, Or know the dep...
Like books arranged upon a shelf,memories display there. We can choose to read them again,or not, or even share. If placed in a certain order,favourites' at one end. Chosen ones read over and over,bring smiles again and again. Bad memories from days gone...
1962 seems like forever ago. 1963 and 1964 flew by in a rush. So much love and so much need, left a heart so barren and crushed. My life was filled with you, A mind full of never ending bliss. If only I had known then, you had already given me our last k...
