My Words, My World

First drafts – A few pages in the large wilderness of the world of writing


Green; the leaves on the trees no longer fresh from spring.

Spring, now past.  The grass beneath my bare feet in the morning dew.

Dew; a million tiny drops of water, my feet wet and cool in the morning.

Dawning, the sun is rising, to evaporate the dew.  Grass turns brown.

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