Life can be a blur.
So, stop to smell the roses,
but don't waste your time.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Amanda Mitchell and writers in Poets and other communities.
Sunrise butterflies, Dusk sky's, doves fly, dawn's owls' sighs, Ravens' dark cries.
By Amanda Mitchell3 years ago in Poets
I’m out and about Strutting through the daffodils Flicking back my hair Doing my thing I feel your stares I hear your whispers
By Mother Combs4 days ago in Poets
the path fueled by desire forged by deceit overwrought by obligation acquired by a diamond that secured a promise
By Greer Monroe3 days ago in Poets
The short form of tomorrow is never the whole story. Abbreviations mean nothing when we are born to die and we all are aren't we? Being spoken for before birth is something we're not supposed to remember like some kind of karma after effect. Still here we are spending our lives looking for each other.
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.