She said it again this morning; she tells me every day. “I don’t know why you bother. Nothing will come of it.” And every day I push back. Reach for one more minute, one more word. Someday I will shut her up.


The steady thump-thump-thump of the watchdog's tail chases me from my dreams. I never sleep unguarded on a full-moon night. But there are dangers, and there are dangers. "I was wondering when you would wake," said the Lady who harrows my heart.


If she asked, I’d pull down the moon for her, climb the slender stair that stretches the length of my longing to pluck it from the sky. But even this well-worn path measures only half the distance between her heart and mine.


When we were small you pushed my Radio Flyer down the hill. It landed in the brook, dented and wheels up. I dragged that broken thing around until it fell apart. Should have guessed then what you would do to my heart.