afternoon poetry
-
The hour before evening softens the day’s sharp edges and gives a tired house one small place to exhale.
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
A poetry library for the things that bruise us, the things that bloom anyway, and everything we become in between.
The hour before evening softens the day’s sharp edges and gives a tired house one small place to exhale.
Between Bruises & Blooms 