Carolyn
No subtitle necessary
Every memory arrives
Creeping in, ghostly dances.
Leaving traces of bergamot
Incense of our lives.
Perhaps if there were second chances...
She dreamed her dream and then was gone;
Eclipsed by nothing, counting earth for naught.
About the Creator
Tammy Castleman
I have been an avid writer and photographer for most of my life. In terms of true passions, those are mine. What I lack for in memory, I make up for in recorded detail. We are what we leave behind.
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More stories from Tammy Castleman and writers in Poets and other communities.
Perfect Little Pirate
The rough, sodden rope bit into her fingers as she swung over the roiling water far below. Reaching out with the toe of her boot, she managed to catch hold of the rain-soaked railing of the ship- and promptly slipped. Throwing herself forward, she landed hard on the deck, slamming her elbows against the wood planks. The sharp yelp of pain quickly bubbled into a laugh, and she rolled onto her back, laughing up at the gray sky as a torrent of rain washed away the soot covering her skin.
By M. A. Mehan 7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
lovely to remember others by their scent