If i don't rise in blooming spring Ring the doorbell of the gone Cut off every string i have Please unbind my ghost from earth Shoot me flowers to the moon Let me know i lived in you Let me know i mattered once
***finding my poem on the daily was truly a nice surprise*** Thank you wonderful poets
The birds started singing at ten to four this morning; coaxing the dawn on with their song.
The *** would be great on the clouds I saw yesterday. They looked like rows of fresh cauliflower. Every position would be a little miracle; perfect depth and perception.
The sweat stung my eyes as I smoked in the sweltering July sun. I wish I could live in the clouds... No job No taxes or tired back. Just relaxing in that puffy white perfection.