Waiting rooms are long and bleak.Full of people who want to speak.To get your turn is a rare chance. And the lights often flicker.The tension is thick and the coffee is bitter.When they call out your name,you play a game. That...

I am loved by my husband  I miss him he not been with me I miss him in cry missing him  I had more than love if love makes you miss I see I am destined to miss i miss my son...

It’s five-sixteen, rush hour, Poet’s Day, on Friday 20th July 2029. And the temperature outside has risen to 52C, a record high. I lie back in my cool thermal white tee-shirt, matching hipsters, anklets, and soft white ballet pumps,...