SIGN OF THE TIME

She took a drive along the river; windows open, breeze blowing her hair; down that long winding road she once loved so well. Riverfront mansions guarded, by imposing iron gates, with large white pillar columns reminiscent of long ago days. Giant old oaks trimmed with grey-green moss, seduce her imagination as if fragments of ghosts

WHITE CHRISTMAS DREAMS

It was Christmas Eve morning and all within the castle still peacefully slumbered; but for that one soul; wandering, but no longer lost, or alone. She stood by the French doors, wrapped in her robe of paisley silk, unconsciously rubbing her finger along the strand of garnet beads that adorned her neck forevermore; her gaze

MISTAKEN IDENTITY

Faced with reality Of her own ugly truth She found herself slipping In that self-loathing mode Mortified at succumbing To the falsity of illusion With nothing left pleasing For the eye to behold The world was still cruel Fate dealt a wicked hand And if he so loved her She could not understand She withdrew

CATHARSIS

She had a knack for burying things; in the secret recess of her mind. She didn’t wait for the wounds to fester, didn’t want to see the scab that was sure to leave an ugly scar, even though she knew it would eventually fade with time. She didn’t want to feel the itch as it