When the sun shows its face
To those who beg and worship,
The bud begins to grow slowly
Sprouting up reaching out for
Tiny glimpse of beauty
Wales of the sky bringing the
Tears of the lost souls,
Singing a sad tune, the sprout
Drinks and drinks, swelling doubt.
When time is due and the clock ticks no more,
the blossom sends a wave,
A wave strong as thunder and
Bright as lightning, we bow.
We obey and follow the wave,
As our guide to passover,
Humming the sad tunes,
We fade into the sun.
We fall again into this cycle of
blossoming and passing.
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105 words
Just a lonely poem
Sorry..
YOU ARE READING
Little sad writings
Poetryit probably isnt good and isnt worth much. its only small writing pieces that I thought about posting. sorry and enjoy
