The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle

kindness

  • grandmother’s garden

    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

  • not cold at all

    Life ends, and you are here, on the mortician’s table, a quiet witness to the journey’s close, not lonely, not cold Rather, a sanctuary of care, where the breaths of the living hush into reverence; We gather, a unity of hands, young and old, each fingertip a thread of warmth, each heartbeat a whisper As… Read more