The sound of the kettle’s whistle pierced through the asbestos walls. Flickers of white light seeped through the crack between the attic door and the Frame. Gwen could not make out the images in the dark.
By David Coast4 years ago in Fiction
I got a Coat It’s got many colors My mama made it for me Under the sycamore tree I got a Coat Of so many colors More than the eyes can see
By David Coast5 years ago in Poets
