They looked back at the small temple. There was no sign of the bus station that should be behind it, and the noise of the city was absent. Sam frowned, puzzled.
“Why are all these trees in blossom?” she asked.
Jason shrugged. He wasn’t that interested in the temple. It smelled of piss, and somebody had left a load of old chocolate wrappers in there. Maybe it was the same person who had scrawled their name on the wall, and something obscene about a girl called Angela.
“It’s the middle of September”, Sam continued. “Those are magnolias, I think, and that’s cherry blossom”…
Continue reading at fmmewritespoems
Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
LikeLike
Thank you 🙂
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung – Aus und über Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!.
LikeLike
Thank you 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person