Photo by Benjamin Voros on Unsplash
My feet tread upward.
I keep walking on the known,
Till I touch unknown.
About the Creator
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Winterthorne
Winterthorne stood alone at the edge of the park. The beautiful snow that had surrounded him was all trampled now, from the feet of all of the children who had built him. He missed the sparkly clean snow blanket, but he was happy that so many children had come out to make him.
By Laura DePacea day ago in Fiction
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