Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2022
This was an elegy for a
fallen tree. Salt of my body collects on
the skin. An aphrodite walks on the ****** trail.

The daughter of the moon
cries gently. Under the snow storm,
what was the legacy of hiding the sun?

You rise like a volcano
to engage me. Put the thoughts in
mind-space to communicate with your soul.
Written by
Satsih Verma
108
   Melanii
Please log in to view and add comments on poems