Sand slips through my toes,
Lost moments buried below,
Time's unyielding flow.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Prince L and writers in Poets and other communities.
Oh, caretaker of my heart, I am awed by how you care for me, And yet, I fear that I have not held up my end, So, I want to share with you what I see,
By Prince L3 years ago in Poets
In Newfoundland in Quidi Vidi, St. John’s, About 1771 a baby was born, To who, I don’t know, I can’t quite distinguish,
By Nani3 days ago in Poets
The walls are warm not with heat, but with memory. They remember every back that leaned against them, every argument that softened into silence,
By LUNA EDITHabout 22 hours 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 Gagnon6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.