Mr. Nobody
there’s a little piece of parchment, love frayed upon its every edge where the years have worn the fibers and upon it’s fragile surface has been scrawled a simple pledge […]
Tag Archives: growing
One Last Dance
The little veins, like tiny river beds, sprawled symmetrically across the worn surface of the old leaf. But a season old, he had lived to the ripe age of three […]
Rhyme Written In Red 