Seaside

My Stories

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My Poetry

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  • The rope tugs on my weathered hands
    And drags me to the mortal dock;
    <100 words, 7 comments, July 20, 2004. In 0, 0, 10
  • WE stood at the summit;the descending sun,wished we two goo
    <100 words, 5 comments, February 14, 2004. In 0, 0, 8
  • I knew a man who knew the bluesWhose skies were often greyHe came and sang a song for us<B
    <100 words, 6 comments, January 17, 2004. In 0, 0, 10

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