excerpt from a draft scene~ a word or two on The Detectives and Birdie The setting: Bing’s Palace 1960 At the mention of Birdie, Gladys waved her fingers on both hands to signify wings. She turned, eased past the two sailors to speak with the host. “That one, toward the back wall-” and pointed to a section of round tables placed beneath a … Read More Birdie
My sister asked, “Do you remember that morning at the beach?” How could I forget? A memory of us. Two children lost in fantasy, tiny feet dancing as the ocean kissed the sand. Accidental twins, our small bodies snuggled in white hoodies. “You took a stick and drew a huge circle,” she said, I remember. “I drew a circle to protect us.” I see her … Read More
~ an excerpt from a life Some days, my mother prefers to read, ignoring my presence. In those moments, we are adrift. Mother and Daughter slip past one another, like ghost ships in the night. I fail to tow her back to now, to us, to me. Today she stares off into the distance, a novel in hand. Her eyes close. She pauses. … Read More
The saddest moment is when you realize that the people you love, the ones you’d give anything for, are the very same whose smiles mirrored sunbeams behind a curtain of darkness. The same who served you sweet tea, soured in deceit. ~broken trust
Just before midnight step into the painting not yet painted sit in silence breathless hear the rustling of change something is about to burst like a bomb Humanity : you can’t go back, can’t correct Blow a kiss to the old scatter sorrow to the winds take a leap of faith begin again At the stroke of midnight’s magic Pick up the brush … Read More A Leap of Faith
Beneath a sky of diamonds She knelt Raised her hands to the heavens Perchance he could reach back A gravitational collapse Within a circular path of galaxies and souls Humbled by Divinity His daughter, his blood Born with the stealth of a wolf Fuelled by the heart of a fawn Tenacious as a honey badger Immutable thread: Do you hear her whispers? A spoken … Read More
December is the most beautiful time of year. The first flakes of snow. Twinkling lights. For a moment the world tilts, becomes another, quite different, softer. We’re touched by wonder, kissed by hope. If this isn’t magic, what is?