Haiku About Wildflowers
The sun dives into
the ocean spraying stars up
to the twilight sky.


Cure for a Broken Heart

Fiction About Broken Hearts
Bleeding Hearts
Bree swept the broken pieces of her heart on the floor into a dustpan. She took it to the kitchen table where she made a feeble attempt to fit the pieces back together, but it was of no use. Bree slumped into the kitchen chair and hung her head as a dam burst and a flood of tears gushed down her cheeks. Freya, a white cat with a splosh of gray painted along her back, came to join her.

Bree scratched Freya’s chin. “How had it been so easy for him,” she wondered aloud between sobs. “How could it be so easy to love someone one day and then someone else the next? How did he forget about me so easily?” Bree looked out the window, the front of her pink dress soaked and mottled with tears. “I tried to forget him,” she continued, “I tried to wash away the memory of him by using the hands of another man, but all it did was make me realize how empty I am inside. There’s nothing left.” She eyed her shattered heart still in the dustpan.

Freya rubbed her face against Bree’s hand. “Bree, you are not empty. Your heart may seem irreparable but I promise you, in time the pieces will find their way back together. You won’t even realize it as it’s happening. You’ll notice the colors of the sunrise, the fresh scent of spring flowers blooming, the song of the birds, and the glow of the moon. You’ll notice the beauty of these wonders and they will slowly mend your heart.”

Bree looked into Freya’s emerald eyes. “I want to believe you.” She wiped her face with a dry hem of her dress.

“Belief has nothing to do with it.” Freya placed a reassuring paw on Bree’s arm. “You will experience these things and then you will know.”

Freya nudged the dustpan with her nose. Bree carefully picked it up and poured the remains into a bag that she then slung over her shoulder.

She wore the bag every day and, as Freya said, each time she noticed the beauty around her and absorbed it into her soul, a piece of her heart mended itself until one day her bag was empty. On this day Bree held her hands to her chest and began to cry.

“Why do you cry?” Freya asked with a twitch of her tail.

“My heart is whole and I now know the secret that I was blind to before.”

“What is the secret?”

“I only ever needed someone to love me because I did not love myself. But now, now I know what real love is.”

Freya smiled and nodded.

Bree tossed the empty bag onto the floor. She whisked past Freya out the door, her arms open and ready embrace to the world.

Hidden In Plain Sight 

Poem About Wildflowers
Oxeye Daisies
He tells me I have a pretty face
but he doesn’t know the truth.
I’m an unwelcome visitor
in his home.
If he knew this
he’d surely cut me away;
toss me aside.
He’d spray venom with words:
“I need to get rid of you.”
So I’ll stand here quietly,
smile sweetly,
and pretend to be something I’m not.
For I am more than just a pretty face;
I’m wild
and I go where I please.