And my dad whispered
to “remember the mountains.”
He will meet me there.
About the Creator
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More stories from Annie Edwards and writers in Poets and other communities.
Elderly Woman Behind the Table in a Large Town
The glass of Absinthe sat before me. It’s quite amazing how despite such terror rendered upon their stones in the preceding decades, these streets still held the beauty I first read about as a girl. I never dreamed I’d set foot on these cobbles, at least not safely.
By Matthew J. Fromma day ago in Art
Comments (1)
So beautiful Annie ❤️