A broken hinge rests alone as freedom ripples in the wind. She stands tall beside the red tricycle, fenced in white and rusted green.
Snapshots fire sepia-toned memories. Farther down the road, where the crossroads hit the stop sign... phones lines cross the skies.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 10:55 AM UTC
A broken hinge rests alone as freedom ripples in the wind. She stands tall beside the red tricycle, fenced in white and rusted green.
Snapshots fire sepia-toned memories. Farther down the road, where the crossroads hit the stop sign... phones lines cross the skies.
