Love ❤️ Environment

Flash Fiction: Inconspicuous. “What’s Real?”

In the still frame of reflections, time inconspicuous. Summer stories bright as daylight reframed winter tales of freezing cold.

“What’s real?” She evaluated the images on window pane.

“Moving clouds and your absence.” The rest an illusion of proximity just like Him.

Deeya Nambiar

Tiny white bristles

Sailing parachutes of wild,

Field of dandelions

Calm.

I am no flower

I have but a wild side

Range of emotions

Confuse.

Wish I am the dandelion that

sail the many thoughts of

faith, trust and courage, and

Settle.

*** Published in I Heal, and You Heal