Barefoot
Bare feet find the stream,
Ripples dance beneath the sky,
Cool whispers of stone,
Each step, a silent prayer calls,
In the flow, my soul finds peace
About the Creator
Printique Studios
A poetic journey weaver, I craft verses that paint the canvas of life with hues of dreams and determination. Their words resonate with empowerment, encouraging others to forge their destinies and embrace gratitude.
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The Missing Ingredient
The first time I saw her, she was wearing a velvety, red ribbon in her hair. She carried a small leather backpack everywhere. She searched the forest by turning stones, checking beneath shrubs, listening to the wind as if it might carry an answer.
By Imola Tótha day ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
a great piece, well done