The tick, tick, ticking clock resounds off the walls of the tiny room, reminding her each second she is alone. It’s always the same, she awakens, moves to the window and sits. Waiting.
They died in the darkest hour of the coldest night of the year and when they left, their souls opened the door to the cage. This cage, with the bars to keep her captive, is the only home Lovey has ever known.
She walks with angels on a misty shore. The morning is damp and cold, but she does not feel it. As the frost smoke rises over the glassy lake, she stops, reflecting. At that moment, a magnificent large mouth bass escapes the water, breaking… Continue Reading “The Lake”
He floated freely through life, with the wind as his companion. Always free, never encumbered.” – Linda Lee Lyberg Yesterday, I said good-bye to my father for the last time. And although he was never in my life much, there is a new emptiness… Continue Reading “Saying Adios, Dad”
Of course you’re an artist. You come from a family of artists. I’m an artist, your grandmother was an artist, and so was your grandfather.” – My Father Anthony Joseph Pollizzio 9/3/1926- 9/18/2017 Dear Friends and Followers- I received a call this morning that… Continue Reading “Goodbye Dad”
Smile, he beseeched. As she perched on the edge of the abyss, he took the shot.
All I have is a torn, grainy photograph of a man I hardly knew. He was a contortionist in Vaudeville and the photo shows him folded in two like a piece of paper. Folks who knew him told me he could put his head… Continue Reading “Grandpa”