http://slow.writerscafe.org/etherealsol The original writings of author Rose en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775986584 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Walking in the abandoned hallway after school, the boy forgets all else and lets himself think, truly think. He thinks about meaningless things; will the Yankees win their next game? Why is the sky blue? He thinks about concerning and worrisome things; what will happen next year if I still can't mak.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/etherealsol/1804141/ In a glass cage,The walls are iridescent.And although the bird could see the land ahead,She knew, that to hope,Would only be a rotten mirage.Trapped in a clear castle only known to her,The bird was sick and tied.Her Flamboyant Feathers now cut and dulled,Her Cheery Tunes a mere memory;too far away t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/etherealsol/1804140/ "Rose," I say, only it comes out as air.No sound.No words. We live in two different worlds, You and I. And I keep away from your world. Out of Fear? Of Rejection?I know, but I do not say. I do not say anything. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/etherealsol/1782632/ Are happiest girls the prettiest girls?If so, one could call meBeautiful. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/etherealsol/1782628/ My fingers flutter over the porcelain keys, and a black tune overshadows all else. The only place to hold passion and release it in the form of art, is in this melodic room, within these multicoloreddreamcatchers.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/etherealsol/1773329/ The girl with the flower sprints in and out of view, partially hidden by the invasive tangled greenery of the jungle. Her black, braided hair bounces behind her like the pouncing jaguars that share her home, and in one swift move, she leaps on a vine and laughs as it transports her fr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/etherealsol/1773320/ No, Creativity does not just flow out of me, like a piece of bark from a long-lost tree, drifting solemnly downstream. The water doesn't guide me, as it would the wet wood, but enlighten me, as rays of sunlight do. And though it doesn't make much sense;none of these wor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/etherealsol/1773318/ I sit here, staring at this paper,willing the words to come.But like a waning plant, I can't seem to reach the sun. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/etherealsol/1773313/