The tips of my fingers were numb and hard as rock. Frozen wisps of white frost clung to my fitted, brown leather trench coat like velcro and settled comfortably on the white beanie my grandma had knitted me before I left for school. She had figured that New York winters merited the accessories we usually scoffed at in California. It was nice, then, with my long, straight hair hanging down my neck over my scarf, as I stood rooted to the snow powdered street just in front of my car. The windshield was grey with ice that had grown over the glass in the four hours I had been in class.

I hope you knew
That I loved you,
that you made me laugh
on the dreary days.

I hope you knew
That I admired you,
how you faced each challenge
with poise and strength.

I hope you knew
That I was inspired by you,
your bravery and courage
in times of turmoil.

I hope you knew
that I respected you,
for your tenacity
in breaking barriers.

I hope you knew
that I am grateful to you,
for always being there
and soothing my sorrow.

I hope you knew
what you meant to me.

With her whole body quivering in shock she let go of the dagger, and she ran.

***

He looked up as she walked through the doorway of the living area and headed towards the front door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. Gonna walk a bit."

"With a backpack and a flashlight? Where are you walking to?"

The tips of her fingers tapped her denim thigh impatiently while she scrambled an answer together.

"It's been five days since Kent went missing, Jax. I have a feeling he's out there. I have to keep looking."

It was a long and arduous trek into town. But someone had to deliver the news, and the task had fallen upon him - storm or no storm, he had to get through...

He muttered to himself as he pushed his way through the storm.

"Lost...lost."

He was still but a half a mile from the outskirts of town when he thought he heard a faint cry for help. It sounded as if it was coming from a small grove of trees on the side of the byway.

1. Mundane

the bleachy grit of
Comet!
scruffs away at the
blood-red chili stain in my
father’s kitchen sink;

the washcloth is oozing and
I can’t breathe through
my nose—I think I’m
allergic to bleach—my skin
is turning splotchy red and
tingles every time I move

and no matter how hard I scrub
this stupid stain isn’t coming out.

2. Changes

I.
all of the red brick neighborhoods
I once loved
now seem empty
absent
withdrawn

"So that's what you are,"

He whispered in awe.

"Yes, that is what I am; no more, no less. So take me as I am, or leave me. All I ask is that you decide quickly, and spare me the pain of waiting."

Her soft voice came in halts, strangely foreign to her normally smooth tones. It barely sounded above the pouring rain.

He watched the water drip through her eyelashes and slowly roll down the bridge of her nose while he prepared his answer.

***

Author's Note: I wanted to celebrate Arthur and Damaris's engagement by writing a special poem for them. Arthur and Damaris, we may not know each other extremely well, but as fellow APer's, I consider you part of my extended family (and you both are my brother and sister in Christ!). I wish you both love, joy, and blessings, now and forever! This one is for you:

Sometimes the right things just fall into place,
and you find a love that fills up a space,
inside of your heart where you didn’t know,
that any more love could possibly go.

***I ADDED A TON TO THIS. IT'S ABOUT TWICE AS LONG AS IT WAS BEFORE. PLEASE CRITIQUE***

"Hello."

"Oh. Hi. You look familiar...have we met before?"

"I don't think so. I've seen you around at this conference before. At least I'm pretty sure I have."

She tilted her head to one side.

"Ohhh that must be it. I've been here every year since they started this conference back in 2012."

"Cool! So have I. My name is Mark. Mark Barton."

He shook her hand.

"Melissa Grey. Nice to meet you!"

Smiles.

Looking back on days gone by
On carefree days of youth
On summer days of simple pleasures
And winter days of snow

Barefoot days in glorious pastures
Berry pails at my knee
Picking yellow wildflowers
Clenched in an eight-year-old fist.

Dreams filled my brunette head
With fantasy and tales
They swept me far to days ahead
Of my life that God would give.

Dreams of future, ambitious goals
I was certain I’d attain
Dreams of wealth and high applause
Respectful fear and awe.

Incandescent joy
This is not a ploy
Happiness today
Hold it not at bay
Let the light so glow
Everyone will know
Seems I cannot wait
Jitters won't abate
Inexplicable
Patience workable
Be still oh my heart
Carry on your part
Feelings shan't prate
It's well worth the wait