There was a boy on a fence.
His body was hunched over, the dawn casting shadows over him and the bag at his feet, stretching on. His legs tangled with the wood in a familiar pose. His fingers gripped his worn support. His face, scored and creased with indecision, his eyes, hollow and squinting, as if seeing past the miles of land that lay in shadows. In truth he didn't want to see it at all. The knowledge that his home was behind him did nothing to ease his troubles.
So he sat on the fence on the edge.
That’s where he was, not brave enough to run, not brave enough to stay. Just scared enough to watch, at dawn’s edge.
So he wat
There was a boy on a fence.
His body was hunched over, the dawn casting shadows over him and the bag at his feet, stretching on. His legs tangled with the wood in a familiar pose. His fingers gripped his worn support. His face, scored and creased with indecision, his eyes, hollow and squinting, as if seeing past the miles of land that lay in shadows. In truth he didn't want to see it at all. The knowledge that his home was behind him did nothing to ease his troubles.
So he sat on the fence on the edge.
That’s where he was, not brave enough to run, not brave enough to stay. Just scared enough to watch, at dawn’s edge.
So he wat
Creative work has no measurable credentials, we prize our worth at the hand of other people.
I need to remember this every time I hesitate to make a comment at the risk of being too forward with other peoples work.