Ask Me About the End of the Day
Ask me again about the end of the day, about the way the wind caresses browned leaves loose from limbs delicate to the sidewalk below, the way nerve endings are crisp underfoot. Ask me again about the end of the day and I will say I failed to listen to the whispers in the leaves before falling to the ground.
K.M. Crane was born and raised in California and has no plans to leave. She only recently started writing short stories and poetry. @k.m.crane
See more of her work in 7.2