My words fall like rain from my lips. The ground soaks them up hungrily. Yet no one hears my words. They fall like a summer mist onto the land. No one ever really notices that either. I stand alone on this ridge above the canyon. I look down into its depths. My head telling my body to take flight. I raise my arms, stretch them out and fling myself into the sky. The feel of the wind is upon my face. My soul takes flight. There is peace as I fall to the earth. Maybe this sound will be heard by all.
About the Creator
Henry Parrish Jr.
I have a BA in History and am working on an MA in English. I have always written poems and short stories since middle school.
Author of my first novel, After The Fall, available here https://books.by/henrydparrishjr
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More stories from Henry Parrish Jr. and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Photograph
I hold in my right hand a photograph, a little green eyed boy stares back. Yet this picture is deceiving, for behind his smile and laughter, the sparkle of life in his eyes, there was pain, shame, loneliness. The mask he wore fooled everyone. No one saw his pain, they only saw his smile.
By Henry Parrish Jr.3 years ago in Poets
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶2 days ago in Petlife
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