The clouds they float, in a sky so blue,
A canvas of wonder, for me and you.
Their shapes they shift, with every pass,
A never-ending show, that's a fact.
The world it spins, with a gentle grace,
A place of wonder, in this space.
So let us bask, in the beauty of it all,
And let our spirits, soar and stand tall.
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181 Keeping Watch
Each day she watched through her window. Watched? Perhaps an exaggeration: a monochromatic nuclear aftermath remaining of the world, blurring into a blindness--loss of contrast and depth of field. Achromatic aberrations displayed a waste-scape stratified in grays.
By Gerard DiLeo4 days ago in Fiction
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