Unterkalmar

Love is like a shrunken man My cooling shadow Turns to flames when I grab it

Connie stared at her friend, who, disheveled, threw her a dark look. “Emma, it’s a beautiful Saturday morning, and you’re going to stay here, doing nothing?” “Yes. What’s wrong with doing nothing here, in my own living room?” She gestured grandly, as though displaying a kingdom of riches instead of a field of empty bottles and boxes of half-eaten pizza. “Where to begin!” Connie exclaimed, exasperated. “Emma, you promised me you’d come with me to the church social. You promised. And I’ve been here for you throughout this entire ordeal, but it’s time. I want you to

She sat on the floor as she hugged the dollhouse. One leg an inverted v along the side, her other leg like a fallen tree over the front. She pressed her temple to the gable, and caressed its vent with her ear. As she listened, she stroked the pitched roof with one hand, feeling the rise and fall of each shingle as she remembered how carefully she had carved each and all of them. With her other hand, she ran up and down the length of a perfectly made downspout. One he had never needed, not even now, as she made it rain on his front step. “Play it again.” She imagined she heard a sigh of impatience. His words climbed the dollhouse

There once was a woman as tall as a mountain She came from a place where warmth was abundant Her kin and her friends knew a difference in her To see treasures in smallness caused a great stir “What do you see in things so insignificant? Look around you, dear girl; look up. You are a giant!” They pleaded and chanted. She always gazed down Ignoring their calls; strolled far out of town Her fast-beating heart told a story of old One day she would find a love pure as gold Her eyes gazed to find him, her own and so small A man to behold and show proudly to all Long years came and went as she searched in vain They gave her great joy