Going Home, Sinatra – a short story

The station was empty, save for the moths fluttering by the lemon glow of the lone light bulb. You could almost hear the quietness, the eerie lull so characteristic to my town. Quiet, lost and forgotten little place. Existing in secret.  The train came in, huffing and puffing, hooting, and whistling, creating the only buzz… Continue reading Going Home, Sinatra – a short story


On Fall ’22

I haven't seen any leaves fallthis AutumnThey're still up there, as though waiting, waitingThe air seemsimpregnated with anticipationroots restlessa certain change in the breathingof tree trunks, among the grasses a nervous sighing whisperings in the nightYet, it's almost like they know something's comingYou can sense they're waiting for something to be set rightPerhaps they're waiting...for… Continue reading On Fall ’22