The sunset shimmered its last pinkish-orange breath of the hazy evening as my mom announced, “This is the place,” as we descended into the valley of twinkling lights. I was as excited as I was anxious about what lied ahead.
The finest part about poetry is the accentuated emphasis of the individual word; the epitome of less is more.
The sunset shimmered its last pinkish-orange breath of the hazy evening as my mom announced, “This is the place,” as we descended into the valley of twinkling lights. I was as excited as I was anxious about what lied ahead.