Home Sweet Home

Desperate for a taste of home, I stood outside past the witching hour and just watched my breath swirl and dance up, up to the lonely moon. The street lamps steal the stars from the sky they belong in. I find my thoughts are filled with horses I don’t ride, the chilling howl of coyotes, ragtime piano, doors slamming open with news, and a father illuminated by the glow of a timeless purple hued lamp. And it’s all a girl can do to breathe in something, anything to fill the city-induced emptiness that comes with a day of indoor lighting and stale air.

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About Kendal

Just a girl.
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