Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2017
There are gusts sometimes
When my hair is swept
From my eyes and I just feel

The cool wind pull my feet along
The sandy gravel of the path

Lamplight leaving shadows of eachΒ Β tiny stone
And the branches swaying calmly
Like the blue ribbon on my notebook

A black cat prowls out of an opening
Then stops when she hears me there

And I stand like an actress as she stares
With my hair swaying like reeds
On a grey shore
Emma
Written by
Emma  24/F/Ireland
(24/F/Ireland)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems