Swaying tree branches
leaves delicately rustling
a cool-tempered breeze
How does it work?
Nice
More stories from P. Totti and writers in Poets and other communities.
Curling water breaks revealing at the shoreline tiny shells and stones
By P. Totti3 years ago in Poets
We are the ones who are there when you are down We wait for you when you’re not around We know if you go out, you will always return
By Calvin London3 days ago in Poets
I'm Good For Myself No Need For Bad Company I Know What I Need
By HandsomelouiiThePoet (Lonzo ward)5 days ago in Poets
It was the late 1960s, and ten-year-old Gloria Coleman was standing with her grandmother on the side of the highway waiting for the bus. As the Greyhound pulled up, it seemed monstrous and intimidating. Grandma Elizabeth grabbed Gloria's hand, holding it tightly as they boarded.
By Cheryl E Preston7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Nice