Wandering waywardly westward,
we watched winter's warnings.
Wistfully wishing wonderous white
would wash wretched wounds.
Wasted words whispered
winter's withered wish.
About the Creator
willow j. ross
If your writing doesn't challenge the mind of your reader, you have failed as a writer. I hope to use my voice to challenge the minds of all those who read my work, that it would open their eyes to another perspective, and make them think.
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Perfect Little Pirate
The rough, sodden rope bit into her fingers as she swung over the roiling water far below. Reaching out with the toe of her boot, she managed to catch hold of the rain-soaked railing of the ship- and promptly slipped. Throwing herself forward, she landed hard on the deck, slamming her elbows against the wood planks. The sharp yelp of pain quickly bubbled into a laugh, and she rolled onto her back, laughing up at the gray sky as a torrent of rain washed away the soot covering her skin.
By M. A. Mehan 3 days ago in Fiction
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