poetry, flash fiction, and creative non-fiction.
There is an almost-empty bottle Of Aberlour on the oak shelf In the front room of our Family home. Its singular shot of Scottish heritage
By Ryane Townsend4 years ago in Poets
I met the moon tonight. She peered at me from over an old building as I sat. She watched me. Watched us all. There were lines of us. We waited. Slowly she rose, and smiled at me.