The smell of fresh rolls wafted through the dining area. I sat at the bar waiting for my order. A man sat three stools down. I caught intermittent mumbles about death, the end of the world, and some Bible verses. I wonder if he knows something I don’t? If he hears the echo of voices from a place I’ll never know. If he sees the faces of loved ones passed? A full conversation with no one. At least no one I could see.


Your Touch

You didn’t touch me again today.

Should I be worried?

Is it happening again?

My thoughts go dark fast.

Has my adventurous nature become mundane?


There will be a time when you’ll realize what you have.


Before I stop missing the feel of your hands on my skin.

Before the thought of your mouth on my body fades into time.

Before one or both of our hearts searches for another.

For now, I wait impatiently.


We Rise

No worries,

We’ll be okay, whatever may come.

Empires have risen and fallen

Hellfire, rain, famine, locust, pandemic and all.

We’ll be okay.

We’ll rise from the rubble, rebuild what was lost.

Waters recede, and the sun shines again

We’ll rise from the ash, as spring gifts us her bloom.

Crops are resown, industries recover

Locust die and feed the same earth they once ravaged.

We’ll rise, for our neighbors, our children, and loved ones alike.

We’ll rise, because it is what God intended.

We’ll rise, whatever may come

And when we do…

only a shadow of yesterday will remain.



Help me find sleep tonight.

Bring quiet to this mind.

My body has grown weary, of the hardships in my life.

Silence all stray thoughts.

Bring rest to my eyes.

Let darkness take me in her arms, and sing her lullaby.

Put away the triumphs and failures of the day.

Tuck me in so tightly and make them go away.

My mind has grown restless of the voices in my head,

A perpetual droning in a loop that never ends.


Mistaken Path

I am here but I am gone,

Waiting for new time to dawn.

One without so many cares,

One with less burdens to bear.

I am here but I am not,

A memory of what I was taught.

Like a faded withered tree,

Only a figment of what use to be.

Will I grow to be complete?

Will this path lead my feet?

Will I turn the other way?

I do not think that you will stay?

I am here but I am dead,

My heart, it has no time to mend.

Can not deny mistakes I’ve made.

Or the cost of my charades.

The guilt it presses on my heart,

I have no wisdom to impart.

I should be older, wiser now,

But I got lost, I don’t know how.



I take my place as part of a final generation that grew up when Saturday morning cartoons were still a thing, and Sundays were still held sacred. Before internet and cell phones trapped us in zombie mode. Saying so makes me feel ancient. It’s a strange thing when change comes so quickly. A quarter of a century from a time when summers were full of boredom and adventure as the cicadas composed the perfect score until dark. When the crisp fall air ushered in the new school year that smelled of fresh linens and rain. And Winter was short, but brutal, for those use to dry heat. And Spring couldn’t come fast enough. We chased lightning bugs, climbed trees, rode bikes, and laid in the green grass. No video game could take us on an adventure the way our own back yard could. It is a strange thing that all of this, while still here, will never be seen the same to those who come after us. Barefoot and happy, a nostalgia we will bear for all of our days.



I use to think when people died young it was because there was so much sadness in their hearts they just could’t keep it from breaking. I would have kept on believing this had I not lost my daddy so young, or experienced the agony of losing two unborn children, only to find I still managed to wake up the next morning. So now, I believe we all just walk around with these broken hearts, seeking out someone to mend them. The world churns its season, and we cling to all the things that once seemed small. The way he shook his leg in anxiousness or the crinkle in their nose when they were deep in thought. In those moments, we remember how truly fleeting life is. We are mayflies in a world that will continue long after us.



The words rolled off her tongue so eloquently. I, even believed her bullshit. She wore that infectious smile and feigned excitement when she met someone new. Inviting you to rub elbows with the “elites,” like that is where you belonged. Fooled so many, including myself, with her slippery manipulations. If she said you were enough, you felt you were, but disagree even once and she’d knock you down just as quickly as she built you. No worries, you’re safe, as long as you stay beneath her. Where you belong. As long as she is always right, as long as you are still useful to her.



I can’t understand it.

I can’t comprehend.

How a love so deep spawned so quickly from friends.

Just a small spark, ignites a fire;

That makes you think up all these dreams and desires.

It wraps you in tightly, without regard

Of whom you’re attached to, no matter how far.

It tells you that love has taken up residence.

There’s no way around it, you can’t build a fence.

There’s no wall too high that it won’t make it through

If only that love meant I could be with you.