Whispered winds and blooms
Earth's honeyed marvels entice
Spirit's renaissance
About the Creator
Printique Studios
A poetic journey weaver, I craft verses that paint the canvas of life with hues of dreams and determination. Their words resonate with empowerment, encouraging others to forge their destinies and embrace gratitude.
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THE SON AND HIS STEPMOM IN THE DUNES
son and his stepmom walked hand in hand through the dunes, the warm sand slipping beneath their feet. The sun beat down upon them, casting long shadows across the sand. The son, a young boy with a curious gaze, looked up at his stepmom with a mixture of love and wariness.
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I've been here, my love. Watching, waiting. I've wanted to come to you, but I can't seem to break free of these wrought iron bars. You must have looked upon my face at least a hundred times these last few months, yet your face never once lit up for me. Not the way I know mine does for you. It's like you didn't recognize me anymore.
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