The Year

The year is almost over. The year is almost done. And I think of all I’ve failed at And I think of what I’ve won.   And if nothing is for certain, And if nothing has been gained, But I walk a little lighter And I feel a lesser pain;   And I visit less…

Golden

As I approach my golden year, My jewel in the crown, perhaps:   This emotions-partly-frozen year, This artificial, jointed year, This sedentary comforts year Shall fade into the past;   And I And I And I And I   Shall rule myself At last.   Copyright 2018 Andrea LeDew

The Next Best Thing to Snow (Short Story)

It was December and Lulu was feeling sorry for herself.  Of all the places her parents could have picked to move to at Christmas, Florida had to be the worst. No ice skating.  No hurtling down hills on a toboggan.  No hot chocolate hayrides through a frozen cranberry bog, or cross-country skiing.  No snowshoeing through…

It (Poem)

When did it all begin?   When a young man, or an old boy, Sat on top of me and held me down, In jest, no more than a game? When he hurled insults like snowballs, Battering my fragile self Into submission, To contrition, To belief?   I was a dog. I was unsightly. I…