Wouldn’t it be different if they sold poetry through T.V. commercials? Imagine getting two haiku for the price of one, or an extra sonnet if you call in the next five minutes. Think of the testimonials of people saying how happy their rondeau has made them or how easy it was to use the limerick […]
When Mike yelled at her, “Stop hugging that damn cat, it’ll never love you like I do!” while she held Cinnamon close and kissed his nose, his purrs reverberating against her chest, he sealed his fate.
Anyone that jealous of her affection, anyone that hateful towards Cinnamon, wasn’t someone she could trust or love, definitely a Mr Wrong.
When Ben first came to her house and greeted Cinnamon with a smile, and Cinnamon pawed at him, wanting to be picked up, she smiled as Ben scooped up the cat and cooed at him; this one might be Mr Right.
I will clasp your hand in mine And never let go I will cherish the thoughts That flow from your mind Yes, I feel the love It encompasses my senses..I will walk beside you Through thick and through thin If your heart breaks, I will mend it so You never know-your heart ever broke You lead the way I will follow If you can’t walk […]
“I only kill monsters,” the Hunter says, refusing the handful of pennies the young girl in the faded dress is clutching.
Her eyes fill with tears and she persists that surely the reason he’s come to her village is to help her, reiterates that Mother’s new man is a monster, that he’s hurting Mother, that her eye is blackened and there are bruises on her neck like he was trying to choke her soul from her.
“I only kill monsters,” the Hunter repeats with a sigh as he walks away, but this much is true: neither he nor Mother’s new man were ever seen in the village again.