The year matters not.
I'm at home in your presence.
You live in my heart.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro and writers in Poets and other communities.
Time has marched on. I Have grown. But we are the same. We're on our own time.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro3 years 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 Huizenga6 days ago in Poets
L a s t season's crunchy dead mums. My fingers found wet soil the last rain kept it moist I pull the dried gray stems
By Michele Nampalliabout 14 hours ago in Poets
Well, to start off I'd like to say a happy world book day to all who celebrate. I know I haven't really posted anything on my socials about it but I'm not a jubilant kind of person. I lay low most of the time. Let's start off with a popular anecdote from the vaults...
By Annie Kapur6 days ago in Geeks
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.