Daniel Waters

Next in line, we get the blues from Having too much choice to choose from. Later on, will we atone For just a plain vanilla cone? . . . . Continue Reading »

There is a mute abandon in the prim And music in the silence of relief. There is refreshment in the grey and grim And peace in the unravelling of grief. There comes an appetite before a feast That some would label hunger out of fear, But laughter, too, sleeps half the day at least, And trees are . . . . Continue Reading »