Winter’s Teeth by Paul Waring This first of many mornings I’ll stand stare from kitchen window tea in hand and watch you dew-eyed, stretch limbs across lawn as day squints open to light.  Mist still sleeps on car windscreens along crammed-margin streets to the station as chill creeps close to whisper, steals inside my coat … More The Writers’ Cafe Magazine – ISSUE 14 “Frost and Dew”