Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2017
We are a village in East Africa
praying for rain in our mind,
and that is where it rains.

Washing the paint from our soul
we can't tell each other apart.

Meditate for several centuries
after sleeping and dying
in your dream.

Wake up in another life.
Waiting for each other.
To love again.
Written by
mike
337
       JS Clark, Kim, --- and The Sick Red Carnation
Please log in to view and add comments on poems