Where is my coffee at?
I need it desperately as I sat
To find my decedent cream
To get past the miserable morning dream
Meow, wait a minute, I don't own a cat
About the Creator
Sarah Danaher
I enjoy writing for fun. I like to write for several genres including fantasy, poetry, and dystopian, but I am open to trying other genres too. It has been a source of stress relief from my busy life.
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More stories from Sarah Danaher and writers in Poets and other communities.
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Great