A Destination Needs A Dreamer
Gatlin heard the violin every evening on the commute back from work. Wending between warm rushing bodies on the subway, eyes forward, bag clasped protectively at her side, she drank it in at the same time as she didn't slow. It was probably the best part of her day. The shivering strains crescendoed and collapsed, tugging at something in her core. She'd never seen the violinist, but whoever he was, he was clearly a master, clearly professionally trained. The music always seemed to be coming from somewhere further down the track, around a bend, just out of eyeshot. She'd come to think fancifully that it was something only she could hear. Sheβd come to think of it as her future, calling.
Comments (8)
Stunning work Kelli! I love the cover photo as well!
Crows in a group is a murder, and I can see them now. Good job.
What a perfect title for this poem. I hope it wins π
Oh, snap. Now that's a haiku
ππΎππΎππΎππΎππΎππΎππππ
Murder indeed...those damn crows. i like this one
Love this, the world play is spot on :)
Nice one, Kelli! π€©