I wonder if the snow loves
the trees and the fields that it
touches them so gently? And
then it covers them up snug,
you know with a white quilt,
And perhaps it says, "Go to sleep
darlings, till the summer
comes again."
YOU ARE READING
Words Unspoken
PoetryThere is a community of the spirit. Join it, and feel the delight of walking in the noisy street, and being the noise. Drink all your passion, and be a disgrace. Close both eyes to see with the other eye. Open your hands, if you want to be...
