Years

The same red bricks, staring up at me.
The twisted stairwell deep within the basement.
The dark brown hair that flips up at the ends.
Eyes that are dark brown turn green olive.
Square shoulders, a voice that smooths out over time.
The time stretches out into completion.

Discover more from Compose Tales

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Leave a Reply

Discover more from Compose Tales

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading

Discover more from Compose Tales

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading