Siôn-Iestyn Cypress (United Kingdom) published:
PROMPT: My December Competition 2019
Cold. A brittle sensation, apathetic to wistful, woeful nature of a mind. Though my body walks forward, frost being crushed under my damp-infected boots, I am not there. My soul is subdued in the wilted trees, the wet swings that rust, unused... not that they are oft used during the summer anyway. But, on long-overdue, scarce sunny days, the swings have life. On those days, they can sneer, for they know their worth, and we the people do not. Congealed...
about 1 year ago