Author page: Nathan Pratyksh

At dawn, I part with my little one’s smile, A fleeting warmth that lingers awhile. Through city streets, I tread alone, To where the river sings in undertone. The Hudson calls with a silver gleam, Muscota whispers like a distant dream. Through Fort Tryon’s ancient grace, Inwood’s trails, my heart’s embrace. The trees, the benches,…

He walks the streets, his head held low, A shadow where the neon glows. The watchers wait, the lines are drawn, One wrong step, and he is gone. They may barge through schools with heavy boots, Through halls where young dreams take their roots. His son, just nine, knows naught of fear, He only sees…

Beneath the blood-red evening sky, In 1809, where shadows lie, A lone rider forged of grit and flame, A specter known but without a name. His Colt speaks truths the tongue won’t dare, Its smoky whispers fill the air. An outlaw, a savior, the damned combined, A fractured soul, a fate unkind. Yet in his…