Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2018
I find that quiet place between deep black and soft gray
Just as easy as I always have
My mind wanders
The faint outline of not too far off mountains
Calls to a wild place within the marrow of tired bones
Songs of burnt leaves, bare trees and wet things echo in response
3am cobwebbed by mid-December frost
Reminds me of another place and time
When sand instead of snow stretched out before me
Wanderer
Written by
Wanderer  Between Midnight and 3am
(Between Midnight and 3am)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems