Walking a footpath, we travel uncertain of our end.
On one side, wildflowers in tall grasses; on the other, clean grasses for watching clouds.
I watch the wildflowers; she watches the sky.
Upon a fork, I close my eyes in hope; hers open to a choice.
I pick wildflowers.
Becca writes creative poetry, flash and shorts. As a private investigator she is inspired to tell stories. Becca is a lover of all shenanigans.