ix.
Sliding sideways between the spear and the dagger, the warrior slashed with his scimitar, his child's scream echoing in his mind.
Sliding sideways between the spear and the dagger, the warrior slashed with his scimitar, his child's scream echoing in his mind.
In stillness of the morning, as the sunlight warmed the cool air, I rocked back and forth, the baby's soft cheek against my scratchy one.
A pillowy cheek against his chest, tiny curving eyelashes, and little breathy sighs gently instruct a dad about the essence of his life.