ARMENIAN POETRY PROJECT

Golden leaves, sweaters and chills Winter sliding down the hills Arthritis, medicine and pills Are somebody else’s ills. Attaining three sc...

“Sorry,” you said, “bye” and abandoned ship as if our friendship was only a lie. “How fickle you are!” I wondered aloud searching for memoir...

On that fateful Spring night the music was so loud that I could not quite hear your whispers in my ear. I nodded with my head Feigning to be...

Hi dear! Your linen is clean And the bed is done I took the mail in And left the den light on. Coffee is in the pot (you always liked it hot...