Alive

I was the girl in black, withering all away, the dreamer on the rack, beaten down with gray, the days were years, the years were centuries waiting for this day. All the yesterdays— those pale and hollow caves— all the tossing, turning ways of lying in the graves— the thirsts were flames, the flames were … Continue reading Alive

Little Hopes

Little hopes grow like weeds— looking pretty in the grass. Must we weed them out? Pull them up today, and they’ll be back tomorrow, anyway, whimsical as ever. Of course, they may die some time, but so will the flowers. I’ve a mind to let them stay— a yard full of color in a dull … Continue reading Little Hopes