Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2019
Words.
Elusive like wild mustangs.
Without a beginning or an end.
Keeper of my truth.

Words.
Nomads of ****** lands.
I sit on them.
I feel their galloping rhythm.

Words.
Still.
My soul translates.
A new day.
Written by
Jose Valle
193
     Bogdan Dragos and Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems