Alone in the attic. On the desk, her farewell note stained with coffee.
“What matters isn't the fact of dying or when you die. It's what you're doing at that precise moment -- I'm ready to be loved.”
my smoke rings
Published in Notes from the Gean, 4:1, June 2012
A Room of My Own: Border Gate Tanka - a touch of winter sunlight ... the barefoot boy waits with two backpacks at the border gate Note: My haiku below could be read as a sequel to the tanka abov...