Silver Quiet
In the pale morning rain light, the streets look like silver. The sky is the color of old ice. Traffic crawls. Coffee pushes back a headache.
And all else is quiet…
In the pale morning rain light, the streets look like silver. The sky is the color of old ice. Traffic crawls. Coffee pushes back a headache.
And all else is quiet…
© 1996-2012 John W. Randal All Rights Reserved.