no title
It’s this soft wind
That kisses upon my wings
That keeps reminding me
Of so many summers
Kissed by the rolling tide
Upon the shores,
Out there
The rain stopped draining
My languid thoughts
It is this once
In a season I’m yearning.
But to learn to let go
It still gives me shivers
To the bones
Thinking about the passing
Of each and every season.
The stillness of a new born moon
Paints a golden hue
Upon the grey horizon
That leaves a tinge
Of the dark-cloaked night
In my bosom….
OhneTitel
I’ve rediscovered some verses I’ve written on a scratch paper and I knew I have to write it on here before I ever throw it away again. It doesn’t seem to be finished yet… (for me at least)... or maybe one of many redbubblers would give it a tittle.. i’d appreciate.
Dave Sandersfeld, 7 months ago
Bring back the Sun , and Mom.