short-story
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[Verse 1]Down where ancient waters carve their secrets deep,Roots twist through soil that remembers what we keep.I walked those shadowed trails, thorns in every stride,Chasing ghosts the river already washed aside.No chain of fate could tether this wandering flame—Only the earth’s low pulse still whispering my name.A leaf torn loose, yet rooted in the storm’s
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There are tales whispered on the edges of the tide of a woman neither born nor made, but conjured from longing itself. She exists where memory meets water, where myth merges with mourning. She is the soul of the ocean’s lament, the ghost of every goodbye never uttered. This poem follows her silent vigil, her
Addy's Verse 