It's black with white stripes, i think

One day, he wrote three lines: “Your warm smile lays in front of me The perfect memories of a perfect life I haven’t yet begun” He wrote them with care, somewhere up, to leave room for more and took a picture. Then, after a couple of days, he went back to see if the lines were still there. Much to his surprise, the three lines of poetry became five. Some person actually read them and decided he or she had to contribute. Martin was stunned. Didn’t think there was poetry near him. So, he wrote another line himself. So, the poem got six lines. Then, after a week, he came back, and the poem was already 20 lines long. And, he could tell there were different authors, because the writing was not the same.


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It’s black with white stripes, I think

by Lawrence D. Edgis

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© 2017 Lawrence D. Edgis
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This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Edition