From my bench I watch the stars
Wave in a cloudless sky
The cold crisp wind drops and rises
The dead leaves
And I watch from my bench
Not blinking to the beauty
From my bench I watch the lovers
Kiss in the nights embrace
The ghostly gliding snow settles and joins
Their fallen comrades
And I watch from my bench
Not shivering with the feeling
From my bench I behold the cardinals
Dance within the grasping branches
The solitary moon beams down
Its distant gift
And I watch from my bench
Not moving from the breathing
YOU ARE READING
Soft Curses of Angels - Volume 1 - A Fistful of Dust
PoetryThe earliest part of my chronological anthology of bad poetry. Estimated age at time of writing 12-16. I both thank and apologise to any soul who takes the time to read these.
