Photo by Andrea Caramello on Unsplash
The Sun,
Morning's gentle smile,
Promises a fresh start,
I know,
My new day unfurls.
The Sun,
In the afternoon's blaze,
Scorching, yet bright,
I know,
It marks the zenith of my day.
The Sun,
As evening draws near,
Its warmth mingles with dusk,
I know,
It heralds the day's end.
About the Creator
I Am a Prisoner who Dreams of Prisons
The dream always starts the same: I feel the cold bite of wind gnawing through clothes entirely inadequate to protect from the weather and I realize I am standing in line. Ahead of me and behind me are other inmates, identified by the burgundy scrubs we were issued upon arrival. I don't know where we're going.
By Kyle Cejka6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Do you like the sunrise? Why?