Peceful image of open book resting on a arm rest of a couch. Warm fireplace on background.

I’ve been staring at this blank page for a while now, wondering what to say. Ten poems in ten days but not all of my work is poetry. Apologies to those who may have got that impression. Yes, it’s time to step out from behind my poetry and say something. How about an excerpt from “Torn”? Would you like that? Yes. Okay. Here is a little from my hero’s introduction to Mary who is still recovering from near starvation…

“Is Mary sick again? Why were you carrying her, Uncle Liam? Did she fall?” Aiden asked in a loud whisper. His small hand reached toward the darkening bruises but stopped short of touching her otherwise deathly pale face.

“Shh, lad Miss Mary’s tired and needs to sleep,” said his nurse as she turned him and gave him a gentle push back to the nursery.

“Has the lass been seen by a doctor?” Liam asked.

“Yes, back in London Sir, but there’s little we can do. Poor lass, she tries but she eats no more than a bird. She’ll never be strong if she don’t eat,” the old woman muttered as she ushered Liam out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Reminding himself that the girl was nothing to him and he didn’t want that to change, he went about his business. But, the memory of her painfully thin frame and the soul deep sadness in her eyes haunted him.