William James McPhee > Writing | WritersCafe.org

“la musique” he speaks in his native language… “ah, la musique.” i listen, grateful for the glass of wine w..

“colder...” was all it whispered, its voice as soft as a child, its intent as powerful as its being. i struggled with my passi..

would that she’d slain them… I’d not have to continue her work… I’d see colors as they are meant to be see..

How cruel that I stammer over words when written by someone else… that my mind cannot accept a logical progression of ideas and emotio..

i am made of paper, and i’ve been torn… daily… by those trying to shape me into the being they would like me to be. yet ..

William James McPhee Writing