From here the sun’s arc
is invisible. Squirrels
chatter in its warmth.
Still morning darkness
flickers streetlamps and porch lights,
heralds a new sun
Gold curtains fade rose
then white gray as day plummets.
Cat bathes on the sill.
Bereavement single parent dad
Frank Regan in words
Unleashing the beauty of creativity
Poetry blog
Award Winning Fantasy Author
I Am Who I Am
between dreams and reality
An Empyrean Cycle
Author of Historical Fiction and Fantasy
Articles, Poems, Book Summaries & Reviews
Country House History - people and places
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Home of Peter McLean
For Readers & Authors of Historical Romance
A selfish poet
Unclogging my mind...
