Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
Sitting silently
by the
old willow tree,
I heard a knocking
through the thick,
rustic bark.

My thoughts drifted,
thawing the frigid
quiet in my mind.
For there was naught behind,
nor in front,
of the old willow tree.

"What could it be,"
my mind asked me.
"And from where is it coming from?"
And then, from above,
there was a deep, low hum.
A light flashed, and I was
blind.
John
Written by
John  28/M/New York
(28/M/New York)   
  1.9k
       Blake, kevin hamilton, Patrick, Ash, Mariam Shittu and 24 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems