I have 343 stories published in
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It is there, in the strong light, when we see we are growing old. Loneliness is a glance over a darkening lake. Let's play kiss chase. I send my looks deep into the willow tree. Grope me there. I am your Snow-white.
We, the settlers, trekking behind the covered wagons of time, rattle the hours in pockets of loose moments, that can hold only so much in a day. We want more for next week, next year, always in search
Poppy seed capsule, bare now without its bright crimson petals a wind has ripped out, like our children, so often forsaken and each one uncertain. Many are taken. Faster than eyes can blink
One leaves early in the morning, with the clickety-clack sound of her stilettos, size seven, the other stays in bed, next to her glass of water, mars bars and world music cd's. I hear but hardly see them. Their lives
Oh goddess of time, where you are nobody knows, but we know you. Your present is past and future alike and you pass through our eyes without trace As soon as you lay your hands on us you are no longer.