Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
Oh, God, the longing I feel
for those misty mountains,
cold in the morning light,
dripping from the midnight's rain.
I long for the tree-shaded darkness
against mid-day sun,
for wet, warm hours.
I feel the calling, the drawing home
across the sea,
to a time before,
a place known only
in soul's memory.
Jane EB Smith
Written by
Jane EB Smith  Southern CA
(Southern CA)   
507
   Mike T Minehan
Please log in to view and add comments on poems