excerpt from a scene

City In Snow

“Close your eyes. Imagine snow. Nothing is quieter. Especially in the hours before dawn. It’s magical. Soft as cotton, kissing the weary, transforming the rundown.” Her paintbrush slipped across the pallette. “Titanium White,” she said. “Always begin with white. It’s clean. Pure. Sometimes, life is too real, too harsh, sombre.” I understood. Towers stretched, ribbons […]

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drafts, excerpt from a scene

You won’t remember. Snow fell in December, flakes as fragile as love. A poet wept. Time stood still. The world was beautiful and I felt special, knowing I’m not. Yes, beauty is deceptive. Winter turned to spring. I learned the language of loss and how much I miss a snowflake. ~ A draft 3

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dream a little dream, excerpt from a scene, fiction, writing

On Winter’s eve, especially one so cold, Roy is witness to unquestionable beauty. Even the branches glitter. He looks up. The moon hangs, swollen and ripe, perfectly placed within an inky sky. This must be Heaven. His mother’s words flit back and forth, “Moonrise, Blue Moon.” She wears an apron, hand stitched and patterned from […]

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excerpt from a scene, fiction, heart, hope

Cross legged on the grass, I watched, as he looked skyward, his eyes raised toward heaven. His mind was transcending the here and now. Gone was the hill he’d yet to climb, faded were the saddest memories, their burden heavy, for one caught up in the prime of life. A weight had lifted off his […]

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brave, excerpt from a scene, say it, strong women

I will say this: You left a bird with a broken wing. On that day, life, as I had known it, ended. Red lights seemed eternal. Sad lyrics left me raw. This was the beginning of what you would conjure. Silence became a lover and the ocean, his touch. I learned to feel without words. […]

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enchanted, excerpt from a scene, heart, words, writing

It takes patience to procure the perfect cup of coffee beginning with the French beans to the water’s roll. Next, is the slow pour over and finally, the decisive press. Take pleasure in the art. It’ s a ritual allowing time to be. Rain hits the pavement. Leaves dance in the wind. Somewhere, in the […]

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