Angels soothe our souls.

Coming back to reality.

A poem about how music can define who you are.

Need some lovin’.

An acrostic for the word forgiveness.

A poem about the physical taking of pleasure, and its ultimate futility.

They soothe my soul.

My youngest child was a very fussy baby. The only thing that would soothe him was me rocking him in our rocking chair. Such sweet memories.

Sometimes living is as good or bad as death. I am dead, I am killed to life (read death).

A woman does amazing things, some of which too often go unnoticed.