Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 29
Lithe lady of the lake, follow me
Right down here,
Down azure paths lit
By the dripping moon.
The summer has not passed;
We are in the dawn,
Do not let it sail away
Like the receding tide
Of yesterday.
We are all born into the ephemeral breath;
Some choose to ignore it,
Others ride it.
Written by
Artur
54
   ImosyrroS
Please log in to view and add comments on poems