Jason Whitaker

Writer

Wednesday, April 20, 2022

Trees dotted along the long lonely road, cold nights alone dreaming of him: the unknown.

Sewn, seen, been when things were different, moments ago, moments gone, songs of love, songs of missed chances, dances never danced.

Trampoline, backyard, bathroom floor, your bed, memories floating in my head, flowing like the words you said, your response to my question, wishing your answer had been yes.

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jasonwhitaker29171

April 20, 2022

Fiction, poetry, short story, writing

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Wednesday, April 20, 2022

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