Tunnels of Light

A Place to Call Home The walls are jagged, dusty if you lean on them. Damp from groundwater seeping through. Moss would grow happily if the sun was around. But it is void of life and dull. If one follows the side of the strangely hewn wall It would lead into darkness and dampness again. The slight vision one gets when the eyes adjust Is not enough to remove the shadows from the corners. There are no lights in this distant place, He hopes to make that change soon. If he can make it livable, it just might work. Then all the lost can come to this place. While traversing and exploring He will eventually find a cavern That in the hustle and bustle of the underground He will call home. He will work and toil for hours until his hands are sore and tired. But he will be happy. No one will blacken his name ever again He will keep an existence all of his own. Living in a world of peace and quiet rest. He did not run from Above, for that is a coward. He only gave it the respite it wanted from his

William’s Soup   By  JessicaRae     He got  right  up on a  cold w inter’s day   With  a goal  to make a  big  stew.     First,  he started  off  with a  bit of a  plan,   Like all the  great  French  chefs would do.     He flipped through a book or  two, or  five,   Scann ed  all of  the pages that were  there .     He looked through an old one stained with time   It was battered, but he didn’t care.     So  he took down a cherished classic  red  plaid   Hardback book high on the shelf .     He’d received it from Mouse  many  Christmas es  ago,   Who’d brought it Below  by  himself.     He  then  found a pot quite large enough,   To set up   on the  hearth  flame,     And swore if it wasn’t  really  goo d  enough  to eat   Then he would gladly change his  own  name.     He scanned the shelves, the pantry,   And looked  deep  in side  every  dark  space,     And  gathered together  all  the bits  that  he found ,   Emptying  every box , sack,  bag , bowl  and vase.     He poured in a l