Armload of Cannoli's

Three things I need to tell you:

1. I've loved spending time with you. Every minute of it. Nobody likes my pancakes as much as you do.

2. I think you're a stud. "Adorably awkward?" Sure, maybe. But a stud nonetheless.

3. I like you. And I don't know what to do about that. Maybe make another batch of macarons, but somehow I don't think it'll help.

And if I really have become like a sister to you, so be it. Just that given the amount of time we've spent together, I really needed to come clean.

See you soon, with an armload of canolis.

Mir

Dear Tree

by Cassie McDaniel

Dear Tree,

You aren't very big. I should barely call you a tree. You would fit through a doorway.

Yet, you stand there, amidst the giants of buildings and hurry of people on the street,

rooted to your concrete planter and stale corridor of air.

You, amidst it all, standing there, looking strong.

Teach me something, Tree. Teach me how to stand there, looking strong.

Teach me how to fit through a doorway.