Thoughts left impressions
on skin and hair like dust
in the air from a fallen
building. A tension in the
air with no words said.
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
Thoughts left impressions
on skin and hair like dust
in the air from a fallen
building. A tension in the
air with no words said.