adrift in the gust of whisky wind
losing directions escaped and freed
yellowed by time in the dry summers
swayed to sleep in the wintry rains
out in the open where all is free
braved the gloom of the cold dark nights
impulse of the early warm mornings
wake the sanity of the day's life
falling leaves dropped on the thirsty ground
didn't spoke a word bruised or hurt
stayed 'till the living color has browned
picked up and thrown to the pyramiding pile
billowing smoke embraced the leafy mound
heat has blazed to a sea of flames
ashes remained blown to leave a trickle of trace
served its greener life to a tree and waned
I've stopped writing for a long time and I want to start again. I've lost track on operating wordpress.com. Please support me for my return.
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"Non è tanto chi sono, quanto quello che faccio, che mi qualifica" ________________________________________________ "It's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me." ("Batman Begins")
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The sounds of this poem are great!
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thank you, Benjamin…
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Great !
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thank you, Saania !
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Nice thought and poem 🙂
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thanks for your kind words….Be safe
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