Purples majesty,
Lowlit, tall top mountain glows
Winter’s early eve
How does it work?
nice image
More stories from Julia Sinton and writers in Poets and other communities.
Who am I? Do I even know anymore? When the feelings and thoughts of who one is: Yourself; your deepest core, your coreness;
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This is the exact proven matter That I couldn’t be Legitly Blacker, My existence of trying to prove it you withers’ Song after song craft after craft I’ve proved mattered,
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My annus horribilis Rushing to get my six-and-a-half-year-old daughter ready, I grabbed our coats; we were on our way to a lunch and cinema date with a friend and her thirteen-year-old twins.
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nice image