The winds rustle
The tinted leaves sway and settle
Drifting slowly, tracing the breeze, they seem to be having fun,
Rocking the colors of the sun,
Their hold on the stem, barely there
In a trance, I watch, again and again, in an awestruck stare.
YOU ARE READING
Scribbled Echoes
PoetryPoetry based on the everyday attempt to be and do better. Just day in and day out happiness, sadness, fears, and hope. I hope it resonates with you as much as it does with me.
