Jamie Wilkinson > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

The leaves are getting crunchy.

Steamy waters.

I owe my life to things that drip on silent nights When the muted light of moons penetrate curtains And blind the dreams of shut-eye..

Eulogy to a player piano played only by mice. Strings twang untuned as little ones scurry from A to B flat. The dusky sonata ..

Let go.

Get rid of it.

You all know the painting.

Roadkill.

An ugly shirt.

Stumps.