poetry
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I don’t know how to write about missing you. Rain falls from the mists of heaven, slinking through the air, refusing to gaze upon the ground. All the while the earth rises towards the mist without hope of reaching the rays shining upon it. We live in-between these places of ground and air. Hoping to
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Once upon a time. A dog awoke in its own bed and padded into the kitchen. The dog sat on its haunches and waited expectantly. Its dark eyes fixed on the cabinet, tongue lolling over its back molars. In its waiting it does not contemplate the mysteries of the cabinet or the futility of each
Carmen Paquette 