Where Death Lives

A row of tiny houses A row of open doors No one living anywhere Just bones upon the floor Bones that have lain there For many lonely years In a place where death lives And plays upon your fears An abandoned little chapel Another open door There’s no sense in praying For the bones upon […]

Those Beachy Days

Tiny footprints on the sand Lots of seashells in her hands She runs down towards the waves Past the rock pools and the caves The beach is where she loves to play In winter winds or summer days In her pockets her seashell treasure The little joys that bring her pleasure Photo ┬ęBrenda Stephens Par […]