All the nameless are calling me home
To all the places that I belong
In the falling leaves I find my soul
Like the trees I am learning
How to let things go.
All the nameless whisper to me in the breeze
Persuading me to let you be
Because somehow they must know
There are better things ahead for me.
YOU ARE READING
November- #aseverythingturnsgrey
PoesíaIn the month of November, writers Kat Savage and J.R. Rogue are hosting a series of writing prompts called #aseverythingturnsgrey . These are my contributions. Enjoy!
