grandmother
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In the garden of my grandmother’s house, magnolias bloomed like whispers. their petals soft as secrets shared, fragrant memories drifting on warm breezes, shadows of afternoons spent in laughter. Azaleas, bright as a child’s laughter, their bold hues painting the air, each blossom a promise of joy, cuttings planted with threads of love, each… Read more
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the lilacs still cling to the corners of my mind,a ghost of my lovely childhood in my grandmother’s kitchen,where laughter simmered along with blackeyed peas and ham and fresh biscuits I remember her hands kneading dough while the rain tapped like pellets against the window; now their dining room sits with empty chairs,their silence shows… Read more
The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle 