Eyes of emerald, ears in grey
The songs they wrote were long and sad
Something like that would be nice
She said
But it never was
And it never was
Each thread lingered
Awake at the first
Asleep by the last
What an awful way to see.
About the Creator
Chris J.
Trying to write more and dither less.
Five—One Grounding
Five—Locked in a perpetual battle against my failing senses and reason, I fight to survive, to get through; I am afraid of... nothingandeverythingallatonce—...—my mouth is dry, and my muscles seize up... what can I see? I can see the birdcage and birds; I can see the watercolour my beautiful wife painted many years ago and unlocked her journey into art; I can see the empty mug of tea as it sits perilously on the arm of the sofa; how many is that now? Three down, two to go; I can also see a jackdaw on the roof of our neighbour's house across the road and a bookcase of potential—Five things you can see.
By Paul Stewart3 days ago in Poets
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Congratulations and welcome to the Benson Directory® employee #22391! As our newest call handler, you will have the privilege of speaking with dozens of unique and interesting people on a daily basis as well as the opportunity to earn bonuses for high performance. Contained within this handbook you will find a set of ease to follow instructions designed to help you settle in to your new role and begin paving the way to success.
By S. A. Crawford5 days ago in Fiction
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