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The rustle of summer

Devil's ivy grows. Geckos rustle through thick greens, summer noon alive. Written for picture prompt challenge : Haiku Frida...

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

The secret atop the hill

The eerie halo, blanketing the sacred ruins atop the hill, is torn apart by fluorescent flickers on moonless nights. Faint, almost like an illusion. Imaginations conjure bygone romances to life; reality, wizened manuses of a priest. Temple-tales weave themselves into our eventides.


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8 comments:

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.

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