the Unending Journey of the Wandering Author

A chronicle of the unending journey of the Wandering Author through life, with notes and observations made along the way. My readers should be aware I will not censor comments that disagree with me, but I do refuse to display comment spam or pointless, obscene rants. Humans may contact me at thewanderingauthor at yahoo dot com - I'll reply as I am able.

Location: New England, United States

I have always known I was meant to write, even when I was too young to know the word 'author'. When I learned that books were printed, I developed an interest in that as well. And I have always been a wanderer, at least in my mind. It's not the worst trait in an author. For more, read my writing; every author illuminates their heart and soul on the pages they write upon.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


Sirens in the night, a sudden catch of fright that all is not right;
I almost know but I make it go and I've forgotten by the morning light.
Just another day, or at least it seems that way, for dread is fading fast.
I see the shattered tree without a memory of sirens in the night and fright that didn't last.
Then I read your name - things are not the same - once I realise
'There was a crash. The driver died.' I cannot hide the tears in my eyes.

Six years from then I hear them again in their anguished plight;
Sirens in the night, and a sudden catch of fright that all is not right.
I try to make it go but this time I know and I cry inside;
Their lives are spared, but now I'm scared, and I die inside
Each time I hear my private sound of fear - sirens in the night -
And shudderingly wait for another twitch of fate to let me know all is not right.


diigo it


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