Wagon wheels rattle,
Weighed down with springs,
The beginnings
Of shirts, hats, gloves, jackets.
The sun is a cookie cutter,
Preparing pans of dewy leaves in the grass,
Shepherd crooks and woven hats,
All the same when laid flat.
Strings slice the ground in two,
Then four,
Before it's swallowed by straight teeth.
YOU ARE READING
Lost Tales of Kirev
RandomThese are my shorter writing pieces. Not all of them are from the Kirev universe, but most fiction pieces will be compatible with it. I write everything from short stories to poetry to essays. Stay tuned! - - - - - - - - Remember to comment and vote...
