Thank you God
For better dreams and company.
Now to have a wee
And call my mummy.
How does it work?
More stories from Test and writers in Poets and other communities.
In the vineyard at dusk a jar stands cracked and waiting emptiness glowing with unseen fire. Love is as strong as death
By Test6 months ago in Poets
The purpose of art is not the result. The purpose of art is not the result. The purpose of art is not the result. It is, for one thing,
By Gabriel Huizenga7 days ago in Poets
I calmly reflect On blessing I have received. Many come my way.
By Darla M Seelya day 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 Mezmur3 days ago in Confessions
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