so close, so close i could touch it
i can almost smell the rain-soaked ground
the dew off fog-choked pines
mountains, snow-capped
cool water, sunshine, green
hear the wail of a train in the distance
feel the flame of passion burn in my heart at the sight of sprawling hills
never ending
silent, sealed-off
the tears well in my throat
so close i could touch it
but the glass is so cold.
YOU ARE READING
a collection of completely legitimate poems
Poesíaso ironic it's not even irony anymore!so ironic it's not even irony anymore!so ironic it's not even irony anymore!so ironic it's not even irony anymore!so ironic it's not even irony anymore!so ironic it's not even irony anymore!so ironic it's not ev...
