The Truant Train-Poetry by Lorraine Ferns
I know it’s not winter yet, but I wrote this:
The wind, curling, meandering
stealthily shares its history
slinking, down alleys, seeping around
every entity, into the bones of life… 105 more words
High on Words
Do you realise what you’re doing?
You’re killing me. This is called ‘murder’.
But… hold on… you’ve already killed me.
So you can’t kill me again. 25 more words
1 hour, 56 minutes
4 hours, 19 minutes
4 hours, 39 minutes
5 hours, 54 minutes
It was my third year in college when I first heard the term string theory.
I remember moving forward slightly, anxious for what
he’d say next, and as the professor strolled over… 345 more words
7 hours, 2 minutes
9 hours, 53 minutes