by Nicole Long
The sun rose out of the ground like a Phoenix
Orange, gold, yellow, darkness calling her name
Sitting on a dock, sipping champagne
Examining the great Wilmington Marsh
As the Spanish Moss swung to the beat of my heart
There are no sounds here
Cars long gone, neighbors beyond the horizon
I only have my mind
Whisking away to the unknown
Nicole Long lives in Roanoke, Virginia. She holds her BA in English from Radford University, and is a MFA candidate in Screenwriting and Film Studies from Hollins University. Her short stories and poetry have appeared in numerous college publications. She enjoys the poetry of Whitman, Thoreau, and Dickinson.
Belle Rêve Literary Journal is a southern literary experience. Our mission is to capture everything that makes the South and its residents unique through the best contemporary literature we can find. We publish new works weekly.
Passionately Ran, Compassionately Fed.