Fossy

I didn't know whether to put this in short stories or poetry as I'm not sure if anyone would understand it or if the title gives it away.

Didn’t jump.

His mother had told him the baby wasn’t his – he believed her, not me.
So I stand at the door of the train, my eyes wet with tears.
My grip is tight on the silver pole.
The wind in my face as the tracks flash by below.
The baby quickens - my vision clears.

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Originally posted by Sam Winchester.
Fossy's good too. She gives good advice.

smilinghelps

Hi Fossy,

This is poetry with no doubt.

It works, I understood it. I don't think you need had in the first sentence. And I would rework the last sentence a bit--to show instead of tell--

The life within me flutters--my vision clears.

or something like that.

Good work!
Ask to have it moved to poetry if you like. I'm sure Az, Baron and the rest of the poets would pitch in too.

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"I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."
E. B. White