Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2020
The wind passes, tugging at the candlelight.
I dance with no one as an audience,
only petals drifting in the wind.
Sealed all that of the past,
turning it into a beautiful dream.
Now love has exiled me,
I heard someone once said⁠—
Dream is an escape... Is that so?
old willow
Written by
old willow  17/M
(17/M)   
215
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems