In Wonder, We Continue

The smell of burnt bacon, smoke filling the apartment, an egg in the pan, coffee dripping into the pot. A standard Saturday morning in my old apartment. Stuff that I can’t enjoy as much now that I don’t live alone. I can’t say I mind the smoky haze from burning something on the stove (as…

If, Anon

If, anon, my eyes should close, my ears no longer hear If, in time, a creeping dark should cover up all fear, a dreadful silence beckon close and say “dear one, come near” Then I should glance once more upon the valley in my mind, a shimmer in the sky, a place where my love…