...in the faces on the old bark
on backroads of memories
of musings, doings
and lucid dreams of red clay
down by the feet of my shadow
where Mama now rests
surrounded by nature's postcards
in the faces on the old bark
Find your next favourite story now
Login
Loved the story?
Show your appreciation by
tipping
the author!
Get Free access to these great features
- Create your own custom Profile
- Share your imaginative stories with the community
- Curate your own reading list and follow authors
- Enter exclusive competitions
- Chat with like minded people
- Tip your favourite authors