Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2014
Emptiness, loneliness, are like being, in the middle, of a great forest, far  removed from people, feeling, noise, houses, everything.  Yet old men fished in the running creek, children biked under the warm sun, or played tag, on the road, deer were seen, all the time, early mornings, fog kissed the ground, and the neighborhood, was bathed in quiet, on certain days , and times, rain falls, like holy water, those upon those hoping, for miracles,or some magic,to make everything better, or at least,bright and new
Written by
victor tripp  Philadelphia pa19144
(Philadelphia pa19144)   
640
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems