Dreaming sideways, casting aside residual sorrow to tumble evermore into a valley burning. Loss, it cried, liquid silver caressing her cheeks while a gasping heart choked her throat. Standing sideways, swaying in mourning sunrise pain where hushed breaths came earlier each rising. Life, it was living, carrying her on a great river of timeless remembering resting on her shoulders. ©February 2022 Christina Anne Hawthorne
Christina Anne Hawthorne
Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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