The blossoms are dead, dried up and crushed
into the dirt, into the ground from which
they came. Life’s skeleton parades
around in the wind, a storm is coming.
Thank you for reading my writing! I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

I saw her at the
Crossroads, black dog at her heel
A torch in her hand
Another drink, a day gone
Torch burning in the darkness
The blossoms are dead, dried up and crushed
into the dirt, into the ground from which
they came. Life’s skeleton parades
around in the wind, a storm is coming.
Thank you for reading my writing! I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina