In Willow Creek, where shadows weep,
Sarah lived, her sorrow deep.
A solitary soul, by woods embraced,
Longing for love, in solitude faced.
Through misty woods, she chanced upon,
A wounded bird, its spirit wan.
With tender care, she nursed its plight,
Finding solace in its fragile flight.
Days of joy, in the forest glade,
With her feathered friend, she laughed and played.
But storm clouds brewed, the sky grew dark,
And fate's cruel hand left its mark.
A lightning bolt, a deafening roar,
Struck the oak by Sarah's door.
Her faithful friend, in its nest it lay,
Silenced forever, on that fateful day.
Now Sarah weeps, her heart laid bare,
In the quiet woods, her grief to share.
The echoes of loss, the forest knows,
As tears of sorrow, like rivers, flow.
About the Creator
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insight
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar2 days ago in Feast
Comments (2)
I feel miserable and sad. Wow! There's always a happy ending. I believe you can rewrite this story. 😊
It is miserable but wow! I like that loneliness in a beautiful environment. Thank you for sharing.