Poetry

KaZ Akers

The first appearance. Chill in the air. The purity of each little flake. Frozen perfection. How it tumbles from the sky and lands in sublime

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Poetry

Sunset on the hill. Favorite time of day. Bats, bugs, birds. Flit, flap, buzz. All the searching. Seeking. Surrender led to the top of a

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Poetry

Never stopped being in love with what we were. A memory. a fantasy, So long ago. Years and places and people ago. Roads diverged after

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Poetry

You murdered me because of the color of my skin. Not because of my culture. Not because of my religion. Not over territory rights or

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