http://slow.writerscafe.org/ringx078 The original writings of author Emily Ring en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776004893 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I suppose I always knewBut it didn't soften the blowAnd I wish there was something I could doIt didn't keep me from loving youIn another lifeI won't let you downAnd you will never questionThat I loved you http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1746078/ I sat near the window and looked out at the lightsThe same lights that glown yesterdayLining the city streetsAnd empty alleysComing in on ships at baySteady trafficStoplights turningPaper tablet on my kneesThe fragrance of coffee and cinnamonNever leaves the apartmentIt lingers a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1653709/ Did you nearly forget what it was like?In the big woodsBeneathe the canopy of leavesAmongst no othersTrails throgh the tall grassI saw it in your eyesLost in another place in timeWhen you ran through grass like thisUnder a canopy of oaksWhose mangled branches Twisted and weaved t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1648028/ I knew you, I knew you wellIn the shadow of oak treesUnder the swaying red pinesWhen we road bikes down a gravel roadWhen the blacktop was too farWhen we heard music Inthe woodsWhen we wrote memoirs And then criedPoetic by natureSun on our hatsLife as a dreamI knew you wellIn a midnight songI.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1572817/ We fell lost to the willowsIn the motion of branches To the essence of pale green leavesA sweet poison in our veins Acquiesced to the achePerhaps for wandering waysPerhaps for beauty that cannot be retainedI don’t want to questionWhether the miles we have come have been far enough.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1526604/ Sit with me by lamp lightUnder the whirl of white mothsIn the springtime duskAnd listenTo spring peepers in the marshTo wings returning to brushwoodTo the sound of placidity And the honest silence of themoonAnd know that it is hereBefore the horizonBefore th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1419444/ As the wintercame her soul grew shadowed and quiet;Like the worldoutside, composed only of white and grey.The wind acrossthe prairie burned our cheeks on a January morning,When I realizedthe light in her eyes had dimmed.She used tospeak fervently of flowers and books An.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1409362/ I am young but I used to be younger.  I recall a version of myself that seemsexisted millennials before, and as always when I reach back to recallwhat I shouldn’t but I do, that melancholy tune plays over andover until I cannot take it anymore. And I should throw ou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1333009/ Mourning doves called in the gloamingOn that still summer nightThe one where I thought of youThe one where I remembered everythingThe one where I swore I could wait for you foreverAnd the aspen leaves shook in the breezeAnd for a moment I thought I smelt youFelt your brea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1319106/ This is a poem about home. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1310030/ My muse.  I have carried thoughts of you everywhere I have went.  Long ago, I fell asleep thinking of you and wishing you were mine.  Two tangled souls we were as we traveled across that open prairie, the tall grasses at our knees and the blanket of diamonds above.  You carried m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1166920/ I like the latenights when you and I drink wine together and all we do is listen to the musicplaying off the record player and laugh at our own bad tastes.  Then wetake the guitar off its stand there in the living room to play until ourfingers throb and sing until our throats ache.&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1154799/ In the summertime Iused to sip coffee on the front porch of our cabin.  The mornings were always crisp and colored inyellow and blue.  They were the kind ofmornings one can only understand far from the bustle of town life, where youcannot hear traffic down the street or neighbors a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1151364/ It was hot even under the dark sky andthe mosquitoes buzzed at the screens of the tent.  The magnetism of thenight drew me out onto the sand and over the dunes to the beach where the moonwas full as full as ever and as in the daylight I could see the beach stretchfor miles out t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1140400/ To the low playing melodyyou sway amongst the shadows of twilight; to a sweet voice singing of a fadingyouth you turn your head and believe in a place where it is not momentary.  Do not be afraid that you did not knowenough, that you did not do enough. Where you are now is where yo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1135308/ Moths beat theirwings against the screen of our window, hungry for the light glowingwithin.  We sat together on the couchlistening to their flutter and to the song of the spring peepers in themarsh.  And as the moths would hunger forthe yellow light of the living room lamp, I had.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1127091/ Between your pages lie the truths of a forgotten youth.  I had forgotten I was the girl who dancedthrough your pages and rested against your binding.  I spilled across the paper what my tonguecould not express.  I had reminisced of thesedays that were simpler, more complex, more.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ringx078/1121923/