There’s a shadow on my wall and no matter what I do it won’t go away.
The tree stood still with the ghosts of all those had been hanged there drifting forever around it’s tangled limbs.
She wished she was far away on a beach somewhere with the sun pouring down and the sea lapping at her toes.
The only thing Sundays are good for is laying in bed, reading books and drinking tea.
She was drifting on a sea of dreams to lands unknown.
I was always waiting on the phone. It seemed it was the way of my life.
Logophile; a lover of words.
He loved words. They were his passion, life, work and ultimately his untimely death.
He wanted to write, but his hands weren’t working.
She locked all their technology away and declared they were going to have a family fun day.
Spring seemed to have arrived but nobody had told Winter.