thoughts [poetry book vol. 1]

38 // breath

POEM #38: BREATH

The gust begins its journey through the woods,
A knackered gasp that buzzes the throbbing bone.
It speaks of days surrounded by blood,
In forests that clasp the Earth while all is sown.

The audience is muted, covered in golden shields,
Each pause a warning upon the belittled crowds.
The comet, a canvas, drawn with winter's skills,
Holding peace amongst the resting clouds.

The kings stand mightily: a symbolic scene,
They wear their crowns, bathed in gold.
Years keep passing: beauty is strength,
Winter's spell is now worn-out and old.