My bookshelves are filled with sweet dreams of many poets. The content of each book is the beating of a writer’s heart, pumping with inky fervor, guiding me into a world where we will meet soul to soul. A place where one thought is doubled and my muse finds another that suits its tender essence
Don’t believe it …….. when they tell you there is no gentle man in the moon or shining stars are just spheres of gas. For they are fools with hearts that cannot see the magic and souls that do not hear the songs.
Love is nothing like the movies – sometimes it looks like laundry and dirty dishes. Real love happens in the school drop- off line and hides in the bleachers of soccer matches and band festivals, simple ordinary times when a parent’s love fills all the empty places.
She was a walled flower with two left-over feet No rhythm flowed or surged through her limp veins Not beat to match her lonely heart moved her hips But when the moon was full she shed her shoes and tangoed alone in the lambent glow of night