amongst luscious green
rotten fruit falls on it's own
let it go, in peace
How does it work?
Love the image. So profound in such little space.
More stories from rhe and writers in Poets and other communities.
just let the time pass she will do as she pleases breathe in, out, again
By rhe2 years ago in Poets
Arbeit Mach Freit. The letters stare at us - twists of rusted, wrought iron, flaking with age. I don’t speak German, but I know what these words mean.
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Time is a tape measure, marked and countable but foldable back upon itself. The metal lip latches feebly, retracts with a snap, and nips your thumb.
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Comments (1)
Love the image. So profound in such little space.