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Aug 2017
the arpeggio of strings,
a distant voice sings,
for pleasantly contained spaces,
in far away places.
somewhere sweet
and safe, with
sorrows embraced,
far in the distance,
neath moonlit plains,
white stars,
wave crashing and
undeveloped terrain.
the cool cast of a fire-y past,
riper, wiser, and
unaffected by change.
looking black,
at looking back.
But back's where I am, and it's all that I have.
Irate Watcher
Written by
Irate Watcher  30/F/Denver
(30/F/Denver)   
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