Something I wrote a long time ago.

Start Over Sitting at the edge of the cliff, my hair ruffled by the cold, harsh wind, watching the sun set in front of me I wondered.

Truth is strange Truth is always strange - stranger than fiction.

Absence She sat there for hours, begging him to give her an answer, for him to say something, anything.

THE FLOWER I was there. I watched as the little seed was planted in the soft soil, as the seed of care for it was planted deep inside me.