He wrote poems and she said she’d look them over. In her closet, dust gathered like mountain snow on the paper.
He wrote poems and she said she’d look them over. In her closet, dust gathered like mountain snow on the paper.
3 Responses
I like the dust/snow imagery. I felt bad for the husband/lover for the callous way she dealt with his work. But then I felt worse when I started imagining the poet to be her teenage son.
See, your words made me think, and that’s the most we can ask of our creations. 🙂
A story that really packs a punch.
Thank you Amy and Gayle. Your comments are awesome!