Creative Works - Page 13

Glass Fire Writings

It's christmas morning, 7am. My siblings and I, gittering with excitement as the clock's hand strikes the precarious angle. A permitence to wake our parents,...

Your Race Is Not My Race

Your race is not my race as my face is more rounded than yours...

Gardening For The Soul

Weeds like to sit amongst the bladesOf grass, as it waves with a lifeSo green it’ll leave stains at the touch Yet weeds sit...

The Beach

we drive to the placewhere water kisses the landsmelling salty airexcited to let the sunbeamskiss our face This EarthOur Earthmade the floor into a pillowand...