Dust, debris, smoke.
A broken pencil.
A few weeds and
A clump of grass.
Loud people
Crying kids
High sky
And hard ground.
But I see the light
And I see the day
And I see the joy
Of an early May
There's the wet grass
And the blue sky
And the whispering winds
And the spring sigh.
There's the little girl
With braided hair
Who waters us
With loving care.
There's dust and debris
And smoke's there too
But there's the girl with braided hair
And she's nice; it's true.
oOoOoOo May 2, 2022 oOoOoOo
A/N: First month of school is over, and it was damn exhausting (I'd forgotten just how irritating my classmates used to be—they are worse now), and summer vacation is here. Saw YAFantasy's announcement about this poetry contest so I decided I'd give it a try, since I had time.
I don't think I am that good at poetry. Don't enjoy writing it as much as I like reading it. But what do you think? How was it?
Like always, I decided to write at 11. And now it's getting late and I am going to sleep. Good night, people.
Shutting down,
~Anony
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories
RandomA collection of short stories when the muse hits me. On my head. With a bat. *** An ongoing anthology which consists of (mostly) unconnected stories. It is, among other things, about : -A nerdy knight who is crushing on a fern (and being hate...
