



Rest now weary sinners, there’s a reckoning just ahead. Where the work of grace begins, and every hope…
perfection a lofty and high goal striving at the cost of your soul when is… good enough, good…
Heartbroken, I fear the worst watching silently Love, fading steadily over time wrestling down Memories, of a forgotten…
“Do you think she hates me?” “With a passion.” “Do you think it’s the hat?” “No” “A lot…
This was (is) poem #12 from the prompt, The Smell of New Possibilities, posted by 451 Press Poets….