We stride reeking confidence, we bend no knee,
We call ourselves angels and all others debris.
Crushed is the ant, fooled is the fox
Pawns all and many, timed to our clocks.
But oh, still it is, there’s always bigger fish in the sea.
About the Creator
Bridget Couture
An aspiring author and poet with an unquenchable love for books. Can often be found typing intensely or substituting reading for sleep.
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Gossamer
"Murray! Wake up!" He loved that period between waking and dreaming. To him, it was like entering another dimension; more of a dreamscape than dreaming itself. There was an otherness to it that he wanted to grasp and yet deeply respected the fact that it could never be his totally. This is what gossamer was; flighty and light, a wisp of smokiness, an idea suggested but not fully revealed, a slit in cloth, a copse in the wood.
By Rachel Deeming6 days ago in Fiction
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