The Minstrel
The oak she leaned her back against was twisted, gnarled, and bent —A fitting place for one last song, one …
The oak she leaned her back against was twisted, gnarled, and bent —A fitting place for one last song, one …
Those doors were thought to be closed— those heavy, thick doors on massive iron hinges were pulled firmly closed and …
When Hope has nowhere else to go through withering attacks, she gathers strength from roots below to rise between the …
To turn away from haven’s nest, and chase the firefly of dare. To ever seek the higher crest, and find …
I would rise above the moments of descending self-doubt, but so often, alone, I am a bird with no wings. …