The end of summer is making sure I feel it.
Category Archives: Prose
Moon Monologue
Flashes of lightning
illuminate you,
and I turn away
lest I cry.
Prose-Poem: The Placing
The green of the air.
The scent of choking desert.
The end of summer is making sure I feel it.
Flashes of lightning
illuminate you,
and I turn away
lest I cry.
The green of the air.
The scent of choking desert.
