Orange and yellow mix slow on the breeze. Red dappled woods laced with the faint memories of wandering trails. Highlights of green fern tufts mark the boundaries between fairy realm and memories of childhood. Rills and folds bend the land. My mind drifts out into this world. Each crisp breath forming thought balloons without captions in the air.
A Quiet Walk
Posted on by falsepromisenouveau
Published by falsepromisenouveau
Art, Poetry, and dreams of things to come. False Promises is something we all do whether we make them to pacify a young child or an anal associate. The worst are the ones we make to ourselves and label bucket or wish list. With that said I hope to write stories populated by my memories, and the regrets that I would change. If only done in fiction or a dream, I tried. View all posts by falsepromisenouveau
False Promises Nouveau 