Author: Joy

Here I am shak­ing  Frost nib­bling on my skin I do not crave warmth From The Cold I Rise On a carved lad­der of ice Draw­ing near to my goals I see a gold door If I could reach it … Read More

I laid a row of bricks one day  And an old friend tripped on it Songs of scorn were hurled my way  My mind was not fit To pros­per on a bat­tle­field of insult I sat there, qui­et­ly As they … Read More

“Doc­tor, he’s inside this room,” the anx­ious woman uttered. Plac­ing an emp­ty tin tray on a lop­sided cof­fee table, Bet­ty Wil­son ush­ered the doc­tor inside. A scrawny man, wob­bled into the home, car­ry­ing a large brief­case, squint­ing from the blaz­ing … Read More