I sit in the sand, the ocean waving in my ears. The sun beats hot against my skin but a playful breeze blows my hair away from my blank white page.
There was a wind and rain here yesterday, yet you wouldn’t know it from first glance. The sky is clear…

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Who am I?

I am
Sand worn by water,
rock beautiful in destruction,
essential in their ruin.
Crafted into something new,
separate from what it was before.

A white drop of paint
in a pool of red, turned pink
just by a trace of the innocence. …

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S.M. VanWinkle

S.M. VanWinkle

writer / she/her / bisexual / hopeful romantic I write all things fiction but most often fantasy, romance, self-discovery, and sci-fi.