don’t mess with my serenity – Eccentric Exploration

Fiction Poetry Writings

A gift of murder

by Trish / 26/10/2018

The moon was bright, bone china white as I sat beneath the trees. Their branches stark, beckoned the dark, devoid of all their leaves. I waited there, in cooling air, As the last of daylight faded. Shadows grew, until I knew The hush of night pervaded. From time to time, a sip of wine, For warmth as much as mettle To see it through, this thing I do Even lesser tasks unsettle. I’ve considered how, with knitted brow, To repay…

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