Margaret Ann Newcomb Biography

If trust were a material thing,
solid and concrete,
there would be huge
boxes of it in the attic
...

The smell of engine oil and butane
remind me of my father.
A zippo lighter that says 'clink'.
On my bike his fishing kreel
...

Shadows wrap around a tree.
A spoon bends in a glass
of sunlit water.
Freshly picked tomatoes scent your hands and
...

If I remember to be
in this moment, every moment,
it is then that life is perfect.
As it is meant to be.
...

We're back together once again,
with eighteen years between.
I was never out of love with you,
now all those years redeemed.
...