Today, I climb free.
The precipice: nearly feared.
To conquer or fall?
About the Creator
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More stories from Wesley C. Martin and writers in Poets and other communities.
Unstoppable
He found her in the rain, lightning reflecting in her eyes. She was his enemy, yet he shielded her. “Why?” she asked. “Because I can’t hate you,” he whispered. She hesitated—then kissed him. The storm raged on, but between them, a fragile truce sparked into something unstoppable.
By Wesley C. Martinabout a year ago in Poets
When the Shelter Closes
Across the street from my house, a man slept under a tree, his dog by his side. My first, naive thought: he must be traveling through. But he kept coming back, often sleeping there during the day. Then it hit me—that person might not have a home.
By Bride of Sound4 days ago in Humans
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