Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Emma Del Oct 2011
Because yesterday we were leaves on the concrete

Fragrance lost, reduced to colorful crunches underfoot

But today I find myself in the stems

Veiny arms are reaching skywards,

Tomorrow a branch may be my destination-

Clear the airways.

The stars are nothing but streetlamps

And there’s nowhere to go but up

— The End —