~ Dry ~
A
Girl and
A boy measure
Time
In dreams -
A currency, taken
For
Granted. Their
Black eyes connect,
Over
Old stones
A new road
Unwinds,
Leading to
Heaven. The child's
Song
Is meaningless
To me. My
Garden
Is dry.
Smoke from burning
Past.
to read the winning entries and the excerpt from Reesa Grushka’s essay "Arieh."
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur
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