Variation on a theme by Heather Mackay Young It had not died, but it had declined, The swarming mass of silver tendrils Snaking unkempt through the slotted receptacle. It had been a Mother’
Across the ballroom, She patiently waits for him To meet her soft gaze— An invitation For him to draw near to her. He offers his hand, And she accepts it And their fingers
Winter “I’ve got an extra sauce. I think it says “Pollyanna” on it. Do you want it?” Jude looked up from his chicken nuggets. He still couldn’t believe he was eating
“How can I be surrounded by people and feel so utterly alone?” Have you ever thought that before? Think of that social event where everyone had a date except you. Or that society
“We were completely shocked at the news we were going to have twins. Never once in a million years did it ever enter our minds that we might have twins. We had no
Mabel leaned toward the sunlight streaming through the wide window, squinting at the ball in her hand. “G 32,” she called out. Around the plastic card table, a man and a woman bent
An email notification popped across the top of my phone: "In need of spotlight operators." My heart spread its wings in my chest. The school needed people to help with the musical. It
You know the homeschool student stereotype, right? I’m sure a comedic image pops into your mind’s eye . It’s probably a student with a hunched posture, plaid cargo shorts (if you
I stared at my paper, the problems blurring before my eyes. I blinked, but the confusing numbers and carried digits made my head spin. I glanced up at the timer and gripped my
“What about this one?” A woman carefully picked up a ballerina figurine from the shelf in front of her. She held it out toward her daughter, who let out a slight gasp. “She’
He was wandering at dusk, aimlessly walking around Washington Park. He examined all the trees and flowers, except the roses, which stood out in the growing dark. In the middle of the circular
When I make my poems, I press the pencil hard into the paper, Hoping that one of these days I’ll Rip right through the pulpy fibers And see the Father looking at
Falling gently from the sky, Dancing in the crisp morning light, And riding a peaceful breeze, To the frozen earth they fly–– Their design, unique. Their framework, deliberate, As they soar from the
A sheet of silver lace Spreads across the glass, But in the gaze of sunlight Its loveliness will pass. The morning bed of pearls, Each sheathed in a shell of green, By high