Dewdrops kiss my skin
A silver coat over my shoulders green
There's magic in every morning.
In the atmosphere wafts perfumes of Earth's daughters
They sway their hips
They nod their heads
Petals fall at my feet
The floor is carpeted with beautiful hues
Red, white, and purple too
The birds come piping morning's tune.
About the Creator
Crooksology
Let us not deny that we all embark on magical journeys in our heads. The only crazy thing is pretending the other worlds don't exist when we should tell their stories instead.
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Final Call
She flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me like she’s never going to let me go. My head spins as her lips brush against my cheek. She must be able to feel my heart thumping in my chest. I shuffle backwards and ram my hands into my coat pockets, watching her reach down and heave the rucksack across her shoulders.
By Caroline Craven4 days ago in Fiction
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