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How Many Notice
The boy sitting ever so still, Not small, but not full grown. Black rimless cap immaculate and new Black are his pants, shoes, jacket about the waist. Crisp white shirt. Not going to school this day. Head down, face not seen. Clutching a bouquet of yellow daisies, Sitting among orange, red, yellow leaves Still on trees in clumps in a peak of brilliant color. Does he mourn? No movement. Not a soul outside with him And yet there is movement. Traffic still drives down the road. Do they see him? How many notice? How many stop to say a prayer with him? She did. It will be okay. It doesn’t…
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Dare To Turn The Page
The crackle and spit are enough to wake anyone from sleep, let alone someone who has been through this devastation before. He wakes with a start and looks about the room. It is still dark though the beginnings for daylight are underway. He must have slept late. The ribbons of grey arrive to his nose long before his eyes spot them. It is what he feared. The smoke announces above the shouting voices that there is yet another fire. What works of art will be in this one? He walks to the window to see. Stacks and stacks of paintings, artwork, books and rolled up paper are stoked in the…
