Moments Passed Samantha Wilber
3:34pm on a Tuesday Sitting across from the kid who bites his nails watching the professor sift through her notes thud Coffee rings on the table; I always forget not to spill. The window frames the light slitted through the palm trees.
Poetry 12
The friction of pages turning softer than car engines on Okeechobee Boulevard. Voices of a symphony raised hands scribbles notes a backpack zips up and a pencil drops the door closes I call out your name, but you already have your headphones in.
Living Waters Review
