Images and stories to spark imagination and whisper to the soul.

She was the beacon, the meeting place, the spot we all knew. When it all fell into chaos, this where I came looking, hoping the others thought to come here too. Here I am waiting. Maybe I’m the first to get here. Maybe as the water recedes the others will show up. Maybe I’m the last to get here and the others already met and figured I was gone. My allegiance never seemed as strong as theirs.


No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.