Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Larry Ross Oct 2017
As I feel the warmth of the rain
gently kissing my face,
why do I think of you?
As I become weather washed
in scents of lavender and lilac
from the soft storm breeze,
why do I feel your presence?
As I listen to the soothing rhythm
of rainfall upon the rooftop,
why does my heart beat for you?
I think I will linger here a bit longer
until I am thoroughly soaked
in thoughts of you
Larry Ross Oct 2017
I love that transition in the day when the sun yields the sky to hues of dark crimson and violet blue. This is that magical moment when the night begins to unwrap with stars and moonlight all preparing to sing their silver-throated songs.
Larry Ross Oct 2017
She weeps not for the sea
She embraces the current
Becoming the waves

She chases not the sun
She is the moonlight
That cradles the stars

She feels not the cold
She is the warm spring rain
Bringing flowers to bloom

She worries not of storms
She is the gentle breeze
That sweeps them away

She fears not the dark
She is a free spirit untamed
Casting light so divine
Larry Ross Oct 2017
I said her eyes are like sky blue reflections in the sea; she said they're the color of love come swimming with me.
Larry Ross Oct 2017
She weeps not for the sea
She embraces the current
Becoming the waves

She chases not the sun
She is the moonlight
That cradles the stars

She worries not of storms
She is the warm spring rain
Bringing flowers to bloom

She sees no inhumanity
She is the gentle breeze
That sweeps it all away

She thinks not of endings
She is the innocence of life
A spirit that can’t be tamed
Larry Ross Sep 2017
charcoal skies

clouds of gray
moisture falls
a rainy day

lightning flashes
then the thunder
grab my hand
run for cover

damp cold drizzle
bring the storm
here together
cozy and warm

thunderous voices
laugh and play
vanquished blues
the perfect day
Larry Ross Sep 2017
The open road that lay ahead
calls harmoniously to my soul,
the sound of moving gravel
a chorus of unsolicited whispers.
While some paths are well lit,
others are dark and unknown
where nothing feels familiar.
So each footstep is a triumph
changing direction at will,
no final say or fate accepted
only a sprawling open road.
Next page