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Literature Text
Your freckles guide me
Like constellations dancing
In my heart's night sky.
Like constellations dancing
In my heart's night sky.
Literature
The Garden
The Garden
A Short Story
Why is it always me in the middle seat? It's not like it's comfortable. Especially when the person to the left driving is a complete stranger and to your right is a relative you hardly even know.
On the black seat in the black car, fingers twisted around the perfectly square papers. Blue or Green? Blue for Bird, Green for Garden. Crane or Flower? Blue Flower or Green Crane? Blue is also water… No, that wouldn't do. Green Crane.
Slowly I pull out the green paper, but hesitate. How much time? I look up, staring through the window. Take a right past the tombstone store and there's two minutes left. Enough ti
Literature
Memories
The voices come from behind,
can't help to remember,
like the forest for the trees.
Literature
In The Garden
Recalling all that he foretold
And sagely did he speak
Of what was all to come
That my time of comfort
Sheltered in bliss by the gathered fire
Would soon be at an end
As all the while I'd ignored the creeping chaos
Of rebirth to which he spoke
So here I'm standing in the dark
Where once I thought was light
With the gentle essence of Marigolds
Filling up the frigid night
Laughing quietly to myself
For thinking a flower would hold any different perfume
In the dark
As in the light
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My thoughts....with a nod to John Denver in the title.
© 2010 - 2024 frazzled-mage
Comments11
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Oh, this is pretty.