That
quiet
whistle... before the tempest,
a strand of hair lifted with stormy sent
advertising how time certainly went
without a signal or formal request.
| |
You recognize the Summer has nightfall
leaving fertile the ground for renewal,
where the spring seeded wild flowers were plucked
and first bronze tan burned leaves gently glided.
| |
Soon our feet will crack the crispy mantle,
lemon, carrot, cerise and chocolate,
colored sounds of the past paving our path
sedimented under frequent sun bath.
| |
Then, freezing cotton will carpet this earth,
we'll warm hands around hot beverages
from the plants we sprouted throughout these years,
covered in adventure collected cloths.
| |
But I'll mention Winter when I get there,
for now I need to garden...
| |
| |
_________________/ | \\_________________
and prepare!
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 5:51 AM UTC
That
quiet
whistle... before the tempest,
a strand of hair lifted with stormy sent
advertising how time certainly went
without a signal or formal request.
| |
You recognize the Summer has nightfall
leaving fertile the ground for renewal,
where the spring seeded wild flowers were plucked
and first bronze tan burned leaves gently glided.
| |
Soon our feet will crack the crispy mantle,
lemon, carrot, cerise and chocolate,
colored sounds of the past paving our path
sedimented under frequent sun bath.
| |
Then, freezing cotton will carpet this earth,
we'll warm hands around hot beverages
from the plants we sprouted throughout these years,
covered in adventure collected cloths.
| |
But I'll mention Winter when I get there,
for now I need to garden...
| |
| |
_________________/ | \\_________________
and prepare!
Request permission to use this poem