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…
By Dorothy Crawford She hated pecans. She hated the way they looked – like little, shriveled-up brown brains. She hated the way they smelled – like sweet, buttery dirt. She hated the way that everyone else loved them – like they were some amazing thing that she just didn’t ‘get’….