Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2020
With each passing motion,
I branch out farther from
The trunk of my tree.

Now the motion
Has gone to far.
A gust has blown
And now Iā€™m snapped.
The branch fell away
And lies upon the ground.
Ayn
Written by
Ayn  20/M/Wherever I May Roam
(20/M/Wherever I May Roam)   
47
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems