Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2021
As I,
Once lived;
On great mountains;
Making not a piece of sound.
And    in    my    dying   moments,
I lay silent in a bed of pretty flowers.
I’m crushed, with my skin of shaded brown,
Now  a part of the Earth' ground as it  erodes.
In the wind, I whisper whisperings of my time,
A  forgotten  season lost in winter,  and  life.
In  a  forest  filled  to  the  brim  of  d­reams,
Parked       underneath        the       shade,
Once      guarded,        and      unafraid.
And      ­    what           a         shame,
Soon      I’ll      be      gone
With     the     wind,
Forgotten
Of
N
A
M
E
S
Odd Odyssey Poet
Written by
Odd Odyssey Poet  25/M/Zimbabwe
(25/M/Zimbabwe)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems