The winter winds are whirling and twirling the fallen leaves,
Which were once green and full of life,
Now dead and stained orange and brown,
Crisp and fragile as I step upon them
While I walk this never ending journey.
The strong breeze pulls twigs and sticks
Into tiny tornados that spit them back out again
At any passing adventurers.
It leaves my cheeks red and cold,
My lips dry and crackled
And my nose numb and wet.
The sweet smelling rain that spits onto my hood,
Almost feels refreshing.
It replenishes the dying trees,
Giving them water to drink
And freshly moistened soil to grow.
While the sun sets,
My only thoughts are that
This forest is breathtaking.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts, Never Words. (Poetry Collection)
PoesíaPoems written by just some young adult going through some things.
