Short poem is shrt.
Round Thirty-Two
the bluish leaves are dotting
the branches like tiny fingerprints
the raindrops are tapping
the windows
(like pebbles from a star-
crossed lover,
making you blush)
and you make your rusty treadmill
moan and tremble
the pressure is gentle
like silk pulled from a worm
and you break the hush
of a rainy morning.
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How Disturbing.
It's a Gaia Journal. You know the drill. Stuff you don't care about, written by someone you don't know. :0
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Hedjrebl
Community Member |
In my next life,
I want to be me,
and meet you again.