In the spring as the cotton flowers
flew in the wind
In the hilly lands of poets and pine groves
I witnessed a heritage past

Paying homage to the aspirations
of adventurers of inkhearts
Embracing legacy now only words remain
yet they remind of the writer’s pain…

Words paint a picture of infinite colors
strike the chords of thoughts in so many ways…
mortals of dust forever remain alive
in the yellow torn page

the vicissitudes of pen names
show not mere words but memories hidden
stirred is the soul by aching heart
loud enough to break the silence of wrongs apart,
for stabbed by the swords of a mighty pen
empathy rises following the shadow of thoughts

Tricia Somers enjoys watching her 8-year-old son play with Legos. She knows moments like this could soon be gone, not because her son is growing up, but because she is dying.

Somers, 45, was diagnosed with liver cancer last year. In March, she found out it was terminal. The single mother’s biggest concern was her son and who would take care of him when she died.

“He is the only thing I got and I have to leave him,” she said. “It is really hard and I feel bad that I am doing that to him and he says, ‘Mommy it is not your fault.’ “

Somers’ options were limited. Her parents passed away from cancer years ago, her brother told her he did not see a child in his life, and her ex-husband has not been a constant in Wesley’s life.

She was devastated until a nurse, with the…

Art by MichelleMarie

Lonely swan in the silver lake
You are drifting alone
Oh you know how a heart can break
When love has flown
When to some distance ocean crossed
Some mysterious sea,
Though a lover be ever lost
Love can not be
Silver swan by the shore
Lift your wings up and fly
Will you wait evermore
Let life pass you by?
You belong to the sun
You belong to the sky,
You have more than one song

Sweet friend SING~DANCE~FLY
Yay!