Gratitude
Ashes to Flame
When the Light Was Late I waited for so long in shadowed rooms, where silence stretched into endless corridors and the air felt thick with stillness. Some days, the clock seemed to forget its duty, its hands refusing to move forward. Hope, on those days, was paper-thin fragile enough to tear with a breath, and I wasn’t even sure it was real.
By Salah Ayubi 6 months ago in Poets
