A Fireside Carol
The wind outside begins to wail, a snowstorm rattles roof and rail. But here within, all calm and clear, I sit beside the fire’s cheer. My beagle curls up at my feet, his steady breath, a rhythmic beat. The flames dance low in amber light, against the hush of winter’s night. With A Christmas Carol in my hand, I drift through Scrooge’s ghostly land - past Marley’s chains and Tiny Tim, each page a world, both bright and grim. Outside, the world is lost in white, but in this room, the heart feels light. No finer joy could I have planned than Dic…
Where Lilacs Still Lean
For the paths once walked on Lincoln Street, and the trails that linger at 173, where memory bends beneath the trees, and time remembers what the heart still sees. _________________________ I walked again where lilacs lean, their branches heavy, soft, and green. The sidewalk cracked, the roots had grown, through all the years the house has known. The fence still tilts the way it did, where once we dared and once we hid, the gate that caught, the post that swayed, still keeping secrets time has made. Forsythia spilled across the trail, its ye…
