If ever a dream I've dreamed,
I dream here all alone.
I dream of things revealed,
Of happy hearth and home.

I make up castles in the air
Filled with voices that I love,
Feet pittering here and there,
Always stay, never rove.

Why are my dreems so sweet?
A hazy image with no face,
Children I may never meet,
Little house, cozy place!

If I wed my dreams will be reality,
No matter what face or home,
No matter what I see.
Oh! If it will ever come!

1. Unnecessary Sharing
He slides his eyes sideways to capture my reaction
I work hard to keep my face unchanged
It’s okay, no big deal
I didn’t ask for his opinion anyway.

2. Emote
Your face is an open book
You can transform into someone else
In an instant
I’m getting tired of trying to keep up
With your mood swings and changes
It’s too hard to help somebody
Who is so far gone.

Chapter Nine

AS CAD AND IRIS RETURNED TO THE CAMP, Alaric was, of course, running around in a circle like a rooster with a missing head. As soon as he saw the two come out of the trees, Alaric ran up to them, hugged Iris close to him and glared at Cad.

“What were you two doing in there? Answer me!” He demanded.

Cad began, “I—”

“Cad was only teaching me how to shoot properly, and in turn I taught him which herbs were the best for headaches and cuts.”
Alaric scoffed and shook his head. “And why would a healer need to know how to shoot an arrow?”

Chapter Eight

WHEN DAWN CREPT OUT OF NIGHT’S ROBES, SO DID IRIS. She crawled out of her tent and looked about the camp. All of them were sleeping. She turned and watched the slumbering Bear and noticed that the new one was missing. Maybe Stilicho sent him out to hunt, Iris thought. She slung her satchel over shoulder, tightened the laces on her otter furred boots and snuck her way into the depths of the forest.

Chapter One

A YOUNG BOY WATCHED FROM BEHIND A TREE. He eyed his prey with skill and knowledge. To him, these two went together hand-in-hand as a bow and an arrow. The prey, a beautiful snow stag, was standing between two oak trees. It rubbed its antlers against one of the trees and then shook its head.

Where do I start, where do I begin
Thinkin’ of words like “How you’ve been?”
I suddenly bumped into you for a moment
And I tell myself “Don’t freak out guy, just hold it.”

I feel the sweat beginning tp come
Making me feel dumb
What are you doing here,
What more can I bear?

So I remember how it all began
About a girl whose name was Anne:

It started in Seattle a two years ago
On a the night of darkness and cold
We were sitting nice n’ snug in a caffee.
I’ll remember all my life that day.

it wasn't long--
maybe five or ten
minutes--
before the words
tumbling in my head
started trickling out

little pieces of
the weather,
the pulsing
in my aching feet
a trickle of something
--perhaps--
inspiration
that fragmented against
my teeth

1. Feet

Feet that move
down the path
do not think
daily about the
purpose of their
movement
until the day ends
and the tapping
of busy steps
subsides

2. Winter Walk

I’d see them every Sunday morning as they drove into the church parking lot. He’d drop her off by the front door, and then she’d wait for him as he went to park the car, greeting whoever was at the front door with a sweet smile and warm hug. Then as he’d lumber up to the entryway, he would reach out his long arms for a giant, heart-warming embrace.

I've become lost in my own fear of failure. I cannot take a pen to paper; cannot draw the simplest sunset for fear of ruining the perfect whiteness of the page with my pathetic attempt at beauty. I sit, stagnant, waiting for an idea that will not mock me with its mediocrity.
And sitting does not suit me.

I. Shrew
how much depends
on an apologetic
shrew
how much can you
say
how much can you
do

II. It's Complicated
airily, you said that
I had told you a lie
I have done no such thing
I said
you just rolled your eyes