I had a dream.
My feet were hooves.
The forest felt safe.
I was silent in the underbrush.
Golden sunbeams warmed me.
I remembered.
Reincarnation, February 1st 2017
YOU ARE READING
PROSE
Poetrythe pen may be mightier than the sword, but that sword certainly thirsts for more blood (if you like me, vote me if you love me, show me)
