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In springtime’s bloom of ’86,A dream was born through fate’s small tricks.A boy named Will walked campus ground,At Missouri U, where hope was found. A journalist he meant to be,But felt no fire, no energy.For Hollywood — his heart would…
On a Sunday warm in Lafayette,The church bells quiet, the hour set,A father, Bruce, sank in his chair,While peace hung soft upon the air. His little son, just two years old,With hair like sunlight, bright and bold,Slammed his toy plane…
One warm bright eve in seventy-four,In Old Westbury near New York’s shore,A doctor named Julian Kirchick sat,Beside his pool, relaxed and flat. A surgeon by day, with a life so wide,Four children, a wife always near his side.But this rare…
On a cold December evening, in nineteen eighty-four,Sixteen-year-old John Boulware stepped outside his door.His friends pulled up in a Jeep, their spirits running high,Rain fell from the heavens, clouds covered the sky. They laughed and they sang as the wipers…
On a cold January afternoon, the year was nineteen-oh-nine,Reverend John Carmichael left, his heart and suit divine.He kissed his wife, his children too, and stepped into the chill,His cloak wrapped tight, his mind set firm, to preach the holy will.…
Around midday in York, PA,On March 31st, a springtime day,Sat John Schmeer with his friends so tight,At Hooters, their clubhouse, their shared delight. Retired eye doc, his future secure,His buddies were wealthy, successful for sure.They laughed and they joked in…
On a crisp September morning in two-thousand-and-seven,Ashley Wallace awoke at dawn, the sky pale as heaven.Just twenty years old, in her dorm she prepared,For her first day of college, excited yet scared. She straightened her clothes, gathered notebooks with care,The…
On July the fifth, two-thousand eight,David File approached his gate.In Bishopstoke, a village small,He lived alone—yet loved it all. The flats once thrived, alive with cheer,Now weeds and boards were all that’s here.Seventy-two homes stood in a line,But seventy-one were…
One summer night in nineteen-oh-four’s glow,Anna Gray lay restless, soft and low.In a second-floor room at a B & B,her stomach churned from a mince-pie spree. The air was heavy, stale as old tin,no breeze to soothe the ache within.She…
In Edinburgh’s ward back in seventeen eighty-five,A woman lay writhing, barely alive.The Royal Infirmary, grand in its might,Yet her chamber was small, bare, and stark white. She clutched at the bed, her cries filled the air,Sweat poured down her face,…