
be happy she says, her soft arms hold me as I lean into them seeking reassurance a promise to protect am I so old, I wonder to need that which I gave so freely, assuming I was the stronger when she was frail am I so lucky, I ask looking at the starry skies as if the milky way might hold the answer but then I stop look into her eyes and know the love of a daughter
© Neetu Malik
I wait eagerly
for absolute darkness
to lose my shadow
Walk me through
your cave
show me the petroglyphs
the stories
you have laboriously pecked on the walls
with your hammer stone,
carved in the light of a lantern
where shadows cast gloom.
I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe
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A novel of taut suspense and danger from New York Times bestselling author Kat Martin.
More info →It's a warm August morning in 1926 Los Angles . . .
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