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Talking with Letters

 

 

Talking with Letters

The night my blog was named…

It was between winter and spring. Day had ended. The evening was becoming...
Poetry Friday

Poetry Friday

I lay my hand on his back, gently hush him, telling him everything is all right . . . when really my life is torn raw and your fading whomp, whomp, whomp is the sound of war far away, yet so close.

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This Is a Test

This Is a Test

Three very loud blasts, like a blaring horn, shattered the quiet with a suddenness that makes you panic. I felt a strange tension run through me for a moment.

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