Category Archives: Prose

A hiraeth is a homesickness: spring waiting with a cure.


Painful watching the dead die a second death.

You were you,


I was

no more.

The world

takes you


love calls

you back.

Clinging to me

like rain,

you are not only

in the sun.

I do not want to not love you.

A Wintery Fall

We all fall;

some as snow,

that melts

and some as rain.