Thanks to visit codestin.com
Credit goes to www.scribd.com

Scribd
Upload
19 views1 page

Poop Pooo

The document features two poetic vignettes: one about a cloud in a meadow that embodies fleeting magic and another about an old bookstore where a photograph from 1947 evokes curiosity and nostalgia. Both pieces emphasize the beauty of transient moments and the mysteries that linger in forgotten stories. Ultimately, they suggest that some experiences are meant to be appreciated rather than fully understood.

Uploaded by

Zain Abideen
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as TXT, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
19 views1 page

Poop Pooo

The document features two poetic vignettes: one about a cloud in a meadow that embodies fleeting magic and another about an old bookstore where a photograph from 1947 evokes curiosity and nostalgia. Both pieces emphasize the beauty of transient moments and the mysteries that linger in forgotten stories. Ultimately, they suggest that some experiences are meant to be appreciated rather than fully understood.

Uploaded by

Zain Abideen
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as TXT, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
You are on page 1/ 1

In a sunlit meadow, a lone cloud danced, swirling with butterflies and sunbeams.

It
whispered secrets to daisies, who nodded in rhythm. When rain fell, the cloud wept
glitter, painting puddles gold. Yet, as storms faded, it became a rainbow bridge to
forgotten dreams. Moral: Even fleeting moments hold magic—if you blink slowly. (50
words)The old bookstore smelled of dust and forgotten stories. A cracked leather
chair sat in the corner, its seams splitting with secrets. I pulled a faded novel
from the shelf, and a yellowed photograph slipped out—a laughing couple, their joy
frozen in time. The date: 1947. Who were they? Why was their memory tucked between
these pages? As rain tapped the window, I traced their faces, wondering if anyone
still remembered them. The clock chimed, pulling me back. I tucked the photo
inside, leaving their mystery undisturbed. Some stories aren’t meant to be solved—
just felt. (100 words)

You might also like