Before me
As i look on-the landscape
turns to slate
with a poem written for me
by someone i know.
But the words
don't seem to flow
or pour out one after the other
as a sun beam perhaps would have.
The words are still, as if etched
on to the mountains before me
and on the sky all over me
but i cant seem to read
any of it.
As i stand there
happy and melancholy
lookin forlon at the trees
a bird flies by to me
promising to carry those
words for me.
Poetry by Sona
Read 60 times
Written on 2023-12-17 at 21:24
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