Tag Archive: art

Some Day My Prince Will Come

We would sit by the fireplace and drink hot cocoa with marshmallows, while soft jazz plays from the stereo. He would take my withered hand and put it on his chest as we’d… Continue reading

Somewhere

How can we fold 1000 cranes and let the wind blow them to where they belong, flying, fleeting to their destination? You bumped into me again today, your hand rubbing on my wrist.… Continue reading

Jailhouse Rock

The sharp broken scar on his face betrayed the soul of an artist. Indeed, it has been several sentences when he last heard that called him. He hadn’t been that popular, his name… Continue reading

Everybody’s Talkin’

Home-woven pancho and flaming red hair: the woman staring back at me through the windows of the moving bus; and as it rickets down the road, her scarlet hair follows me: Imagine now… Continue reading

Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head

The air felt sticky as he brushed a mosquito off my arm. I patted the red spot that formed where it landed before opening up the wicker basket beside us. He glanced from… Continue reading

Ol’ Man River

Stream, flow, bend, forget. The unguarded boots by the two-foot shrub groaned; its owner dipping his toes into the water; The crack as the flow bangs itself repeatedly against the smooth rocks; or… Continue reading

High Noon (Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darlin’)

Six yards away, his hand poised by his holster, the sheriff tipped his hat ever so slightly downwards. “Yer late.” The bandit snarled, arms crossed across his chest. “Eng’neer stopped somewhere Midwest for… Continue reading

The Trolley Song

Boom, boom, boom went the track wheels As we trekked all the way West Honey, my bunny, leaning my lovey on the rail ‘Til the moment that his face spun my way Chitter,… Continue reading

Unchained Melody

He caressed my knee, his thumb rubbing smoothly on my pale skin. I leaned my head back into his, smelling the musk on his hair. Hand to his hand, I traced his protruding… Continue reading

Some Enchanted Evening

Setting: The men’s washroom at a decent three-star hotel. The washroom itself is clean, spacious, and classy, but — and this is a must — one of the mirrors has to be cracked.… Continue reading