Featured Writing

A rose with drops of dew on its petals

Caught Up in Metaphors

by Nancy Machlis Rechtman He told me that my eyesWere stars twinkling in the nightAnd when he kissed me he murmuredThat my lips were the sweet petals of roses. My heart became the flutterOf birds’ wings soaring through the treesAnd his wordsWere the silky balm on my wounded soul. “Your…

read more...

Posts Tagged late

Arrival

by Joseph Mills Even after Dale reaches the bleachers and Jackie has started stretching on the field, Sally and the boys are still in the van. Doing something. God knows what. It’s why Dale hates it when she drives. She get in and sits there, adjusting her seat, getting out…

read more...

Spring is gone

by Linda Cue There are no azalea bushes or cool breezes moving beneath the warmth of the sun. My windows are opened and my door is unlocked. Does anyone know? It’s summer all year long now, and the sun burns even while sitting beneath trees. Is it too late? Even,…

read more...