There Poem by Josh Alfred

There



Blue sky settles.
The mountains cry rivers.
Clouds speak rage.
Old vines wither.
Trees wrinkle with age.
Oceans sink deeper.
Mountains stay tall.
World spins quicker.
Might trees fall.
Rise to set.
Wake to rest.

Thursday, March 10, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: seasons,summer
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