I recognized your sigh.
In it I audibly see
your soul—purpose:
a whisked wistful batter,
light with heavy undertones,
generally sweet,
bitter bits intermingled.
I recognized your sigh—
such a dense, feathery slice.
YOU ARE READING
Fallen Leaves
PoetryFrom time to time I dabble in poetry. Nothing too long or too complex, just little thoughts and passing impressions. Like autumnal leaves, they drift about my mind. Here are a few that have settled to the ground.
