The pattern on the front caught my eye. The handwritten card was smeared by the rain. Dirt filled the creases. The words were about kisses and the moonlight. The writer’s name has been lost forever to the elements.
Roadside Poetry
The pattern on the front caught my eye. The handwritten card was smeared by the rain. Dirt filled the creases. The words were about kisses and the moonlight. The writer’s name has been lost forever to the elements.