excerpt from my NaNoWriMo novel

         Sometimes I wake up and I find that I can’t remember the way my father looked when he smiled. Or I struggle to trace the outline of our apartment building in Brooklyn. I couldn’t tell you what the sky looked like when I got the news that my mother was gone. But to this day I can close my eyes and vividly see Pierre’s face, his tailored jeans and black turtleneck sweater on that winter evening in Sydney. I feel the soft sweater dress I was wearing and the pressure of his hand on my arm as he leaned in to greet me with a gentle kiss on the cheek. I remember the darkening sky held promise of a coming storm and the breeze had picked up. If I tilt my head I can hear his rich baritone voice reflecting on any number of things. Even if I wanted to, I can’t forget any moment of that night.

NaNoWriMo Bio

who am I?
the wind doth cry
to stop the lie
that I must die
and so I try
to cry fie
and paint the sky
so full of why
that when I die
my work will fly
and none deny
what I supply
does please the eye
with words thereby
and so farewell