Mountains use mirrors
They push back soil like hair strands
Rocks are their sole comb
How does it work?
More stories from K L and writers in Poets and other communities.
Engulfed by ice caps The mountains swallow light snow Their mouths are barren
By K L3 years ago in Poets
Something sits at the end of my tongue. A memory that is unable to form into words. A distant train bellows with the same frustration that pollutes the whites of my eyes.
By Amanda Abela6 days ago in Poets
Life’s a journey Integrating Good and bad we’re separating Specially this day and age They are filling up with rage All these leaders mischief making
By Haychie_Artist6 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
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