25. April 2015
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Mosaic
A million pieces build a perfect image:
Small and tall, edged and wedged,
Rough and scuffed, old and bold,
New and shiny, muddy or tiny,
Each of them an own creation,
Combined in a whole new nation.
Every single forms a part,
Without one, there's no beating heart.
And when the sunlight hits a piece,
My core does a flip and my soul is at ease.
YOU ARE READING
Free thoughts
PoetryTake a breath and inhale the scent of thoughtful poetry. Rank #884 in Poetry (16th February 2016)
