katieeklund

Preacher's Daughter

Her trapped, wild, soul, waits by the soft light of her bedroom window. She watches her father walk the dirt path towards the church next door.
She shifts...
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Her trapped, wild, soul, waits by the soft light of her bedroom window. She watches her father walk the dirt path towards the church next door.
She shifts her eyes towards the boy with the dirty jeans and the hands gripping a hammer tight in his calloused hands as he pounds the last nail into the dilapidated piece of wood on the side of the church. Her eyes wander all over his body as she grabs her bundled flowers out of the night stand, holds them close to her breast, and prays that his eyes will shift over to lock with hers....
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