Daisy-Chained Summers – Poetry of Childhood
Over long, daisy-chained summers I wondered how an imaginary horse might move, I took on the actions, my hands were the hooves, my feet made the noise and as I galloped, friend after friend joined me, became a parade.
Flash Fiction: Roses and Memories by K. S. Moore
She likes to sit right among the roses. She doesn’t mind the thorns, doesn’t fear them. They are only part of a rose, just as human prickles and niggles are part of their skin. Naturally, the petals draw her eye and her favour, like soft tissue, wrapped around a gift. The shade of pink is…