Sophie > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

It was a first. Outside the landscape lay dirty, drenched, white. We walked, the world seeping into our boots, our laughter spilling over: honey ..

Where have the monks gone? I can't hear the scratch of quills in my ear. Where are the priests that brought me the scrolls? My eyes lie frozen on..

Neighbours Hidden in the silence of surrender Your love disappeared. Little white circles That dance around, a jig my mind remembers. My hands a..

There are no seasons, no April mornings with dew-dipped roses waiting to be shaved, no August heat with summer dresses wafting in the non-existe..

Sophie Writing