The floating mountains
Of silver clouds arrive,
Flushed with gold and pink.
The sun peeks from the horizon
And stains the sky with a flood of light,
Prying slowly the translucent ice
With its warmth, which melts the stream -
Loosening my frozen voice of desire,
A call that haunts my dreams
With its unending hopes,
And it resounds beyond
The tinted horizon like eternity.
This stretching sig stings the air,
A sweet breeze driftng
Past birds brooding in trees
Of firm foliage dappling
In the dawn's fie.
Over shady grooves,
Small white petals rustle
Through the deep forest, and
Around the sprawling valleys,
The western hills,
The northern mountains,
The eastern plains,
The southern lakes,
Comes the docile
Eyes of spring.
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like Me {Poetry}
PoesíaWith power there come words. And with words there comes music. And with music there comes joy. And that's why I write poetry.
