First snowfall, the delicate snow blankets the nature.
Each crystal crests over the curves of what rests alike.
Stacked so lightly that the wind doesn't even want to blow, but the crystals graze, sloped upon the air;
to carry the burden of this fall for they gently rest upon almost nothing but the particular matter, but also the unfortunate mord.
C'est la vie, viva la vida.
YOU ARE READING
Berry Tree
PoetryA book of poems, scrambled thoughts, and endless stories. A bit mysterious, but that's the fun of it. You make the story; you imagine, and wonder. Each page is like picking a new berry from a tree.
