Stung I lifted my eyes to his and saw them as if for the first time. Eyes the color of rain soft as dew and strong enough to etch a mountainside. Tears shimmered there tears ay Mother Or maybe they were in my own eyes.
Deborah Wheeler
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It was past dark when I reached the city and Id mostly shoved my ghosts back into their graves. I let the gray mare pick her own pace and browse in the grain fields along the way.
- Deborah Wheeler -
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He stared at Esmelda with a face like glass nothing hidden. What I saw there wasnt steel or fire or stone. Feelings stirred in me and I had to look away. I knew what I saw because Id felt them too understanding sadness compassion...forgiveness.
- Deborah Wheeler