April 10, 2010
Warm breath steams from your nostrils, making plumes in the chill November air. The sun is twitching off night's cloak and spreading her fingers through the holes in the tree line. I pick the little bits of dead leaves from your mane and rub your silken haunches. You stomp your hooves and whiny, excited for our morning walk. It's become a tradition for you and me; our time to share secrets and laugh loud without fear of being shushed. It's our time to pretend we're immortal and the world will stand still for us. It's our time to cry on the shoulder no one else can spare for us. It's our time to be sisters.

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This article has 5 comments. Post your own now!

expression91 said...
May 8, 2010 at 12:32 pm
thank you! i'm glad you like it :)
jessi said...
May 8, 2010 at 11:39 am
AMAZING! really really great descriptions. love it!
lime921 said...
May 6, 2010 at 5:49 pm
i loved it! you have a unique way with writing. you make it sound so descriptive. wonderful. well done!
expression91 replied...
May 6, 2010 at 6:31 pm

thank you! i was practicing imagery, so i'm glad you found it descriptive.

this summer i'm visiting my brother in Beaverton! Oregon is so pretty, I can't wait.

lime921 replied...
May 6, 2010 at 8:15 pm
oregon is beautiful and not only that -- i live there too. good work writing! i really want to see more soon.
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