Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2018
I miss the sound,
of being alone.

The crisp
rustling of leaves
as they fall from grace.

The rush of water
flowing in the river
down to the falls.

The choir of birds
sitting in a tree
humming melodies
echoing in the air.

The thoughts inside my head
whirling freely alone,
rapid and wild
without the voices
telling it where to go.

I miss the sound
of being
alone.
Toothless Nono
Written by
Toothless Nono  Somewhere in Asia
(Somewhere in Asia)   
  464
     PoetryJournal, Emmky, ---, --- and Mark Tilford
Please log in to view and add comments on poems