A bright, sunny day
Shifting snow beneath my feet
A cold grave awaits
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from P. Chiperi and writers in Poets and other communities.
Up, up, up you soar Higher and higher you climb Finally, you peak
By P. Chiperi3 years ago in Poets
Everyone brings flowers for the dead. The flowers are dead, too. Even if they don’t know it yet. You’ll feel better once you wash your face.
By Sean5 days ago in Poets
My heart is locked in sorrow's tower tall, Where neither sun nor moon may shed its grace, And Fortune turns her ever gilded face
By Tim Carmichaela day ago in Poets
My annus horribilis Rushing to get my six-and-a-half-year-old daughter ready, I grabbed our coats; we were on our way to a lunch and cinema date with a friend and her thirteen-year-old twins.
By Chantal Christie Weiss5 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.