At night, my daughter whispers of her friends’ vacations to Portugal, Iceland, Barbados.
“How about…Canada?” I whisper back.
I’m still unemployed.
“How about high tea, a ferry ride, just you and me?”

No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story.
At night, my daughter whispers of her friends’ vacations to Portugal, Iceland, Barbados.
“How about…Canada?” I whisper back.
I’m still unemployed.
“How about high tea, a ferry ride, just you and me?”