Photo by Dimitri Tyan on Unsplash
I planted forget-
me-nots when you passed away.
They have yet to bloom.
About the Creator
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More stories from Jennifer Sara Widelitz and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Dryads are Calling
They say the forest by Phoenix River sings. Perhaps it is just the wind howling through the leaves, or a particular birdsong. But Percy Fisher knows better; he knows what lies in those woods, and he knows that the forest sings of his demise.
By Leigh Hooperabout 16 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Very nicely done.
Touching!!!💕💖😊
Beautiful