Musical beach grass
Shy and shielding the sun through cotton candy clouds musically smell my skin. Beholding heaven, I remember how trembling we explored our wedding ground in this land of arctic terns. Childlike, I embrace stolen moments of youth I never had. Briny mist captivated my racing heart as I lay with you and licked the salt off your chest. Standing firm, sun and sand are bleaching your face like a white knight—wood groaning like a weathered garden glove with worn rawhide. Continue reading here
You never forget the first Editor-in-Chief who takes a chance on you. Peter Wyn Mosey, Editor-in-Chief for “The Finest Example” was that person for me. Please support this lovely on-line publication by submitting your best work for review.