Tovah S. Yavin

Selected Works

Fiction for Children
Teamwork tops competition and family proves stronger than ambition in this exciting ride through a difficult baseball season.
Summer vacation, summer camp, or just dreaming of warm weather and faraway places: these tales follow summer children as they laugh, cry and explore their world.
Mysteries and treasures can be found anywhere - even in a teapot. Read Treasure in a Teapot in this fun-filled anthology.
Do children share some of the character traits and problems as older people? Fear and shyness. Hopes and dreams. In "Like Ruth and Naomi" two people reach across a canyon of years and find that love and caring works for any age. Read "The Blind Man at the Art Museum" under Poetry for Adults for a different perspective.
Fiction for Adults
Read and Enjoy
Read and Enjoy
Nonfiction for Children

For Adults

Read and Enjoy!


Her family stood as if an artist had designed their pose,
Proudly close and watching solemnly,
Ready for this first dayís ride, they presented her to me,
Dressed in summer pink and satin bows.

But, if I had held that brush, Iíd have drawn her dress a lucent white
And at her feet, a shallow splash of rain
Would float her billowing sleeves in sky blue frame,
And seem to shimmer as if she were in flight.

Then, as I did that day, youíd think Ė this must be Noahís dove,
Selected from the rest to roam above
Exposing our familiar world to pilgrimís eyes,
While the others wait to hear her prophesy
What they can hope to meet in their new land.
And you would ponder, too, this plucky child who took my hand.

The Formalist, Vol. 5, Issue 2, 1994


Pay the price and youíve earned the right to stare
At an alchemist changing fat to gold.
For this small fee, youíre not required to care

That you came here hoping to compare
Your perfect shape to his repulsive mold.
Pay the price and youíve earned the right to stare.

Itís not a trap. He doesnít wait to snare
Your well-earned pride in roly-poly hold.
For this small fee, youíre not required to care

That your gawking brings his life despair.
No need to search for faults among your chromosomes.
Pay the price and youíve earned the right to stare.

Come! Wonít you have some ice cream at the fair?
It isnít only dignity thatís sold.
For this small, fee youíre not required to care.

So, donít be shy. Donít hurry out of there,
Or feel ashamed and beg to be consoled.
Pay the price and youíve earned the right to stare.
For this small fee, youíre not required to care.

Riverrun, Fall/​Winter 1994-95


Now I speak in rhythmic beats.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. I cannot scream.
What I see, Iíve never known.
Where I breathe, Iíve never gone.

A prowling shroud of smoke consumed us.
Hand in hand, two brothers lay.
Mom cried and said, too young to lose us.
So she gave our parts away.

My engine fuels someoneís grandma.
He sows light where black had grown.
Can Mom now reap seeds of solace,
When somewhere a son is born?

Appeared in The Northern Reader, March 1995