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 Abelaabout 11 hours ago in Poets
The first breath I draw outside each day is freezing. I'm craving spring warmth.
By Madison "Maddy" Newton6 days ago in Poets
This story was originally published 2 years ago. In Memory of T.M. The ashes arrived in a beautiful hand-carved wooden box. When I saw it, it was displayed next to a little porcelain figurine of a mother and son elephant.
By Mezmur5 days ago in Confessions
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