All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               In cold of night near to autumn’s last, she sat on patio beside fire of piped gas and not of wood.  Still, it was nice to be near to the warmth, near to its light and the close of him beside.                In fine stemmed glass that flared above, she stirred her drink with […]

        “The stories are coming in a vein different from what I’m used,” he spoke.         “You’re allowed and free to change,” she affirmed.         “I worry what others might think.”         “Great thing, almost nobody cares; and the few that do—it’s because they want to know […]

               Redbud branch showed in frost’s cover, white-silver of lawn the same.  In lavender and lilac sky, peach-tone of tone colored in brush-stroke of heat to morning’s meek,  In the room, still covered in night-dressing of white, she gazed upon the glowing change; thoughts going into distance of seasons and a place before restoring to […]

               He smiled on innocence sight of her in pleasured find, in hold to piece of art in hand and framed in golden bound.  She rested in pose admiring gift, high body tall and straight, her legs bend, lap’s form in forward spread of thighs with feet and shins in fold beneath.                 She was […]

               “How do you know you’ve made a friend?” he asked.                She smiled as they walked musing airily on the question.                “Behave as if you have,” she answered.  “Give.  Share.  Show.  Be vulnerable.  Be open.  Express what it is you want known and to say.  Offer.  Give,” she said again.  “If you’ve made […]

               She loved his way of morning greet, hold of her body from behind; wrap of his arms and hands over sides and widen-slope of hips from waist’s narrow, sweep of arms, sense and feel and center of her front; the smile on her face he felt but couldn’t see, not then, not yet, but […]