Rachealgrace Adams ~ Writer

A child’s voice raised in song A minute away from snowing A dancing bag in the wind   Heart beats A kiss The touch of another...

I’d come home expecting you beside the vase of my dying rose. Melted chocolate lay in a puddle; had I left you too long? Longing t...

Still a charm and grace about her, almost the same as that first night at Moulin Rouge.   Her father had brought her, hoping for a...

Her halo headdress of bronze with a gold mask exposed her eyes. Burnt singed cracked edges surround what once was an innocent Je...

It’s that day here, in Winnebago Park by the sea that still haunts my dreams waking me sweating like a child afraid of the dark. ...

In each human soul a heart is tenderly held protecting it from tragedy’s left behind. For the hand that once was held over the whit...

She’d rose at four a.m. hot in a thin cotton gown. A fan above her bed cooled what seemed stale air. Crumpled over the edge of he...