Something to Call Perfect
Experiencing the feeling of perfect
Skies of blue, and flowers full of vivid colors
Gazing upon the shimmering surface of these waters
The light does such wonders
To shed even a single tear at the sight of beauty,
For how soothing is the sound of Mother Nature's melody
There is no sadness here,
Nor is there a thing to fear,
Yet from your eye still falls that tear
Is it so difficult to accept?
Something so close to perfect,
That you must call it just that,
From the ground beneath to the skies above
Drifting in the feeling of love,
A place most only dream of
Where monsters cowardly hide
I have a secret
Between you and I,
The grass really is greener on the other side
About the Creator
Violet Holt
I am from California, born and raised. Writing has been one of my hobbies for several years. Poetry is what I spent most of my time on during my younger days. I love expressive arts whether dance, music, art, or writing.
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson5 days ago in Fiction
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