Little Arrow

Slipping blades of grass between her toes. She’s draped across the lawn, twirling the pen from pinkie to thumb, sundress lying gently beside her. She sits up; looks up; puts the pen to paper.

The clouds refuse to move today. Time stops for just this once, she writes. Just this once, she hopes.

Her mother is still beside her in her wheelchair. She can’t talk but she’s looking straight into her eyes.

The look speaks. You know we won’t be separated tomorrow?  I know, Mom…I know.

The clouds refuse to move today.

Little Arrow – “People of the Volcano” [MP3]

Little Arrow – “Poetically Diseased” [MP3]

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