You took me for granted
Now I’m searching for new
Hope for better tomorrows
All without you
I can’t hold onto yesterday
How can I bloom
If I keep running backwards
Open doors will be few
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More stories from Jordan Alexis Moss and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Spring
The sun was high when Lance pulled off the road and into the dusty lot of the service station. The sign back at the hairpin--the first sign in a long time--said they just rolled into Hatter’s Creek, Population 63. It was small enough it didn’t appear on the handmap in Shelby’s lap, yet here it stood, the first backwater township on the fringes of the National Park. The plan was to gas up, restock the snack bag, and press on into the wilderness.
By Zack Graham4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Stunning. Just stunning. says so much with so few words. Well done, Jordan.