Evening’s colder.
The crickets are crying.
October nears, and
The forest is dying.
Birds in their companies
Far-away flying;
Trees shedding foliage—
Their forest is dying.
I’m in a fog, and
My spirit is sighing.
Where can I go where
My wood isn’t dying?
Shadows are stretching;
Perhaps I was lying.
Here I will stay, and
The forest is dying.
Hello,
Welcome to my cozy corner of the internet. This blog will be dedicated to all things books and reading, which happen to be my obsessions. Note the faint scent of coffee in the air; coffee is a must for me.
I will be sharing book reviews for reads that I enjoy. I’ll also be posting updates about my life as an indie author. Since I’m exploring the classics, expect the occasional poem or short piece as I experiment.
For centuries, land-bound descendants of Merpeople have been confined to hidden districts. Read The Sea Rose and sequel The Sea King if you wish to read their stories.
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Miss Marjorie Brahms, daughter of a mysterious wizard known by the townsfolk as Bamoy, is having a bizarre autumn. Her father, Johann, had reasons for purchasing an abandoned house situated in the middle of a graveyard in which to raise his family. That did not mean that evil spirits could never find them.
Mariella Hunt 
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