http://slow.writerscafe.org/Roca6 The original writings of author Vancarrie64 en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776308941 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Dear Sir, It seems time has run out. Or more importantly, we have. I have nothing left to give you. Nothing else you could want. And I have the sinking suspicion that you are experiencing the same conundrum.  Words have always been everything to me. My sanctuary, my building blocks, my sword an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/681461/ When thinking of "sad",We think of tears;Or failing to conquerOur second grade fears.We think of the rain,And good days gone by.We think of the thingsWe're to timid to try.We think of tragediesThat rarely come true;And those fated affairsThat seem to fall through.We think of the childrenWho cry with.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/673484/ He didn't even know I was taking a picture. Good thing I guess. Maybe that's the magic of it.The roots from the tree that had outlasted generations twisted into the ground. Strong and firm. Powerful and quiet. You knew they were there without being told. You knew what they were saying without hearin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/616689/ I've always been a little on the outside. I know everyone says this. Please, believe me when I say I wish I had something more original to offer as explanation. But these words fit the feeling like puzzle pieces that aren't quite right; but they'll work in concept. I've always been different. I hav.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/604835/ Today's one of those days where I have the sneaking suspicion that I am an addict. My drug of choice is your approval. And for as long as I can remember I've been striving to overdose.It's changed over the years. The way it made me feel, the way I tried to get it. When I was younger, it was like th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/604814/ I love those old photos of couples you find in random places. The ones tucked inside books or in a stack of papers? The ones in peoples' attics from a previous owner that seem to defy their absence and remain in their domicile resting place. The ones where you don't know the couple in it; but you s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/604801/ Children run along the beachAnd in the sand they writethe words they want the world to seebefore day yields to nightThe shore is full of hearts and dates;Of words we want to say.Of peoples' names and footprints,And things of which we pray.Secrets carved in our historiesThat we hope the earth saves.W.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/604795/ She ran out to meet me. She was the picture of beauty. Soft brown curls, loosely hanging. Bright blue eyes; full of every emotion one could ever hope to see. A white daisy tucked behind one ear to mark the season. As perfect as she was. A knee length white skirt flowed slightly in the breeze; showi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/604793/ Maybe we'd have been great friends if we'd met under different circumstances. But we didn't. Mary Jane was the other woman. And it was every night., I'd drive away from him; knowing he'd go to her for comfort, camaraderie, solace; for company. And night after night; tear after tear; moment.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/604789/ Not my usual style, but just my thoughts at the time. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/604788/ My life is a gallery. The people in it are beautiful and moving. Everything in it speaks to me. But I like it best when I'm alone there. Studying and appreciating the statues of my timeline. I tiptoe through the room silently. Like a dancer performing for an unseen audience they never cared about im.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/604786/ Realization of truth and acceptance....in five stanzas :] http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/603131/ This was representative of those final months of a relationship, and the process of processing life- one day at a time. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Roca6/603123/