Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Too fast it seems, the days go by
    slipping like quiet footsteps past
    leaving an uneasy stir of air, a lingering sense
    that there was, like a word just out of reach, but now is gone


    perhaps this feeling comes
    from the smell of rain and fallen leaves
    spun by chilling winds, caught in amber light
    whispered by hooded faces
    ghostly beneath umbrella shadows
    cloaked in muted tones


    but, then it may be the hour,
    both too early and too late,
    a time between, when neither
    yesterday nor today are clear
    in the margin space, littered notes,
    memorandum, lists, intentions, marked
    before the page is turned, leaving only
    the sense, that too fast,
    the days go by
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.