Photo by Kseniya Lapteva on Unsplash
Not used to you yet
Perhaps a new hue for me
Perfect, well, we’ll see
About the Creator
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More stories from Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Missing Ingredient
The first time I saw her, she was wearing a velvety, red ribbon in her hair. She carried a small leather backpack everywhere. She searched the forest by turning stones, checking beneath shrubs, listening to the wind as if it might carry an answer.
By Imola Tóthabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
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