Celestial stood where the river ran away,
Her breath a whispering in the cruel wind’s grip.
Sorrow licked her thoughts like dust in disarray,
An endless spin from which she could not slip.

The kitchen cold, her gown brushed by the night,
Memories like shadows in the candle’s gleam.
She sought escape but found no guiding light,
A life now distant, fading like a dream.

With eyes turned skyward, hope became her plea—
For something more than dust and cruel despair.
Celestial wished the river might set her free,
And carry her beyond the endless air.

Daily writing prompt

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?

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