I Was Trying To Unravel The Complicated

My Soul Found Ease And Rest In The Companionship Of Books.

It Enclosed Us In Its Laceries As We Watched The Moon Spill Across The Atlantic Like Wine From An Overturned Glass. With The Light All Around Us, We Felt Secret In That Moon-infused Water Like Pearls Forming In The Soft Tissues Of Oysters.

My Soul Grazes Like A Lamb On The Beauty Of An Indrawn Tide.

When I Was 5 Years Old, My Mother Read Me 'gone With The Wind' At Night, Before I Went To Bed. I Remember Her Reading Almost All Year.

A Story Is A Living Thing, It Moves And Shifts.