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There are no magic words

or clever rhyme

to stay the aching of the heart

or silence of the night void of sleep or peace

which haunts until sun finds you

solitary to greet the new day

in hope of new love to ease the pain.



Wendy Wei

Stepping up to the cusp of what may be, is a strange and mystic place.

Points view spanning the two curves offered with only the bridge of confidence to cross.

Having the courage to not look back, leaving what must be left behind in weighted heart.

Knowing once crossed, the bridge exists no more.

Choosing oneself in moments decision may be a road traveled alone.

May be an unbearable memory if unwilling to invest full on.

May be a wound without healing even once destination is reached.

These are the thoughts in battle we each must slay.

If ever one foot in front of other is to be started.

If ever wealth of conquer is part of our new day.




Photo: Myicahel Tamburini

A tale and a treat I have for you, a twist familiar, but a story new.
It begins long ago in a place and time not yours to know.

Riddle, it may seem, but I tell it true, this fable familiar but new to you. So began our journeys end this story of nursery and liars den. Word of caution, words of warning, you might be a character within this yarn. So listen attentively if you care to return or I leave you behind to be butters churn.

No need to get ahead of ourselves, child; now, now calm yourself. I jest. Consider it part of the story dress. Remember, I’m the Woodland Fairy, the very best! Doesn’t that put your fear at rest?

Let’s turn the page in my magic brew, so I may bring this wildly exciting story to you.



Of the unnatural kind

Cats Coming

Once in town, I walked the sidewalks to learn the area before discovering an unassuming restaurant serving breakfast.

The atmosphere was calm, and the room relatively empty so I sat down in an inconspicuous corner table where I might go unnoticed.

My server who also happened to be the owner…




Elizaveta Dushechkina on

What’s a boy to do when a glance into the eyes of a beautiful woman renders him helpless.

When speech is momentarily beyond his capacity, yet he is compelled to sing.

When stunned and wanting to look away, but unable.

When heat from the flames within them is seen.

What can be done to control the excitement, fearful it is only one-sided.

Such is the spark of attraction, the baseline for more.

Do you call out in for help, or brave the risk in hope of loves capture.

The windows to the soul will answer, if given opportunity.

Walk the fire in search of gold.



Of the unnatural kind


The ride back to the house gave me ample time to consider how life in my new town was not as expected.

I ran away from one tragedy only to see the earmarks of another in blossom. What I originally considered a possible ghost adventure was spanning the gamut of strange, with me as the primary passenger.

Weeks had passed and I was no clearer on what Marcela was, and how she interlaced with the townspeople. How could she possibly believe I would rescue her, and what is it I must save her from?

My compass was failing me, adding to the overall fear none of this was real, that there was a distinct possibility I was still physically elsewhere sitting within a padded room.

I was famished and in need of something more than coffee. Even the disturbed require nourishment.





Create, Compose traversing subject and medium. To new beginnings, journeys, destinations and the wonderful beings we meet along the way!