A monstrous flurry dominates the open space
Mistral winds blend clutter to its whims
Sweeping gale, a beautiful dance
Giving life to the inorganic
Blood in the veins of Autumn leaves
Pulsing through the muscles of street debris
Singing quietly with the voice of billions
Billions of nothing
Breathe life into the dead so they may move once more
YOU ARE READING
Childish Menagerie (Poetry)
PoetryAn updating skew of poems I've written. A lot of them were written carelessly, and then when taking a look back I find the meaning in them.
