"But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort." (Harold Pinter)
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
Passers-by in the rain
in a mist of thoughts, faces forlorn
no-one knows how long,
how long waiting for you to vanish
never to see your beloved face again.
Image: Little Penthouse, 1931. Martin Lewis. Drypoint, via kafkasapartment
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