Category: Writers Block
For sale sign in the front yard
White picket fence, fresh paint on the walls, not enough to cover the memories.
I walked through a crowded room but couldn't feel a single soul.
Walked down a tree lined street as they fell one by one behind me but I didn't hear them scream.
Shadows call to me. whispering " sometimes you can't return on the paths you have chosen".
Wow! You have an incredible talent Maria..