Some nights when the clock strikes midnight. Some days in the early hours of dawn, when I am asleep and also awake, I feel an intense icy wind stir.
Like the inside of a vast cave that resides inside a forest, the wind fills my bare insides, stirs the sharp vacant space.
In these times, the hollowness is palpable; a forever stamp of what this body will never bear.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
My dear Summer wind, Thy cool breath on me Blow! Oh so soothing, I thank thee lovely wind, my dear. Swim through me cool me
Loud, boisterous laughter filled the dimly lit dining room. A fire-place a few feet away warmed us. A chicken lover, a pescatarian, 3 all American