This green is of half dead pine needles scattered through the hair of a dirt covered child.
This green is the color of the trees that hear our battle cries as we defend our forts.
This green, the most important of all, remains me where my true home really is.
YOU ARE READING
Silent Music
PoetryThis is a collection of poems. Some of them are very litteral and some are figurative. I hope by the end, you can hear the silent music I sing through the pages. All of these poems come straight from my mind to the page and very few are edited. Some...
