Crimson whispers drift,Amber flames kiss earth's soft sigh—One last gleam, then night.
How does it work?
This felt surreal with a sad ending. Nicely done!
More stories from Muhammad Talha and writers in Poets and other communities.
Just as the world tilts forward, the horizon slits open, dusk spills like ink across a blade of road. Gravel hums underfoot, a low hymn. The wind snags on my coat, tugging like a child who won’t speak.
By Muhammad Talha4 months ago in Poets
Hindi is my native language. English is my main mode of study and writing. Latin, I have some command, for I studied biology for decades.
By Seema Patel6 days ago in Poets
There was a young man from Cork Who very much liked eating pork He'd have bacon or belly He once ate a welly Then he choked to death on a spork
By Sapphire Ravenclaw7 days ago in Poets
“Hi, Pop. How are you feeling today?” “I’m feeling fine, but who are you?” “I’m Jacob, your son. I was here visiting you yesterday, remember?”
By Mark Gagnon2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This felt surreal with a sad ending. Nicely done!