In the game, he showed magic
The caravans of my thoughts returned
Either the heartbeat stops
Or break this atmosphere of silence
You are in my heart wherever you are
and will remain in the heart
If you were dead, there would be hundreds of songs to come
Millions of thoughts start reflecting
the memories in flashback and flash-forward manners
Who shook the strings?
There is one thing to bring it
Otherwise, all friends are familiar liars
Everything is like an illusions
The palm of hope is green
Make a million jokes
I have a passion to be a winner of the game
About the Creator
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More stories from malik zahoor and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Fish Song
The room didn’t smell like disinfectants. Its fragrance seemed light and not overbearing. A soft mixture of lavender and mint permeated the space. No beeping machines or any tubes hooked up to four-year-old Kaleeka. Her cacao skin seemed to glow from the light over her head. The family, save for one and the doctors and nurses exited the room like a trail of saints showing their last vestiges of regard.
By Skyler Saunders7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
I love the hope in yours...
Very interesting. I like it very much. :)