A
longing crescendo, an ode to spring,
in weightless heights dancing, on
venturing wings,
effortless, endless
~~~
Soaked
in the mist of yesterday’s
laughter, the joy, the tears, the
echoes thereafter,
nothing but us as we
cease to
exist
~~~
Midst
everyday life and
muted sorrows, roses thrive
of soothing scent and
rusty thorns, a whisper bent
in
endless
storms
About the Creator
Arne Nasgot
Curious mind who likes to read, write and explore.
Thanks for stopping by :)
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More stories from Arne Nasgot and writers in Poets and other communities.
Just another crack
A man is sitting in the corner of the local bus station, leaning against a concrete wall. It is just after sunset, and while his toes still carry the warm memory of a pleasant autumn day, he slowly feels the reassuring cold creeping in through his leather jacket. Not far from where he is sitting, a pigeon is limping around an abandoned piece of bread, tearing apart its best parts.
By Arne Nasgot10 months ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Nice job.
Nice work. Was there a person experience that made you write this ?